


The Exception to Every Rule

by MittenWraith



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Actor Dean, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bodyguard Castiel, Dean/Cas Pinefest, Friends to Lovers, Hollywood, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, Sharing a Bed, Stalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-21 07:01:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 58,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9537005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MittenWraith/pseuds/MittenWraith
Summary: When Sam was accepted to Stanford, he finally convinced Dean to move to Los Angeles to pursue his acting dreams after sacrificing for four years to support Sam throughout high school. Dean never imagined landing the starring role in a Hollywood blockbuster film franchise, but in just two years he’d gone from obscurity on the Lawrence Community Theater stage to become one of the fastest rising stars in the country. He's adapting pretty well to this new life in the spotlight-- until one unhealthily obsessed fan prompts Dean’s agent to hire a specialist from Seraphim Security to watch over him.Enter Castiel, one of Seraphim’s newest “Angels,” and the only one available to take on Dean’s case a week before Christmas. With Dean’s life on the line, Castiel does his best to maintain a professional distance, but with every passing day they’re both finding themselves making more and more exceptions to their rules.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to the [Dean/Cas Pinefest](http://deancaspinefest.tumblr.com/) for running such a wonderful challenge!
> 
> Also, special thanks to [horrorfemme](http://horrorfemme1138.tumblr.com/) on tumblr ([NowMakeThemKiss](http://archiveofourown.org/users/NowMakeThemKiss) on AO3) for the gorgeous art. The art masterpost can be found [right here](http://horrorfemme1138.tumblr.com/post/157001350986/art-masterpost-for-the-story-the-exception-to) .
> 
> Thanks also to [Shellie](http://meangreenlimabean.tumblr.com/) and [Jenn](http://winjennster.tumblr.com/) for beta reading. I can't thank y'all enough. <3

“ _Shit, Dean. You can still work at a garage, or wait tables, or tend bar out in LA. They have crappy jobs in LA, too. But at least out there you’d be giving yourself a fighting shot at something bigger than Kansas community theater gigs._ ”

It had been a little more than three years since Sam had sat him down in their cramped apartment back in Lawrence and delivered that speech, the day after he’d gotten his acceptance packet from Stanford, along with a scholarship award letter granting him a full ride. They’d gone out to celebrate the night before, but it had taken nearly a full day for Sam to work up the nerve to bring out his detailed list of reasons why Dean should head out to California when Sam left for school in the fall. He’d been honing the list for months, writing and rewriting it until he felt he had the most concise and compelling argument it was possible to make.

There was nothing tying Dean to Lawrence anymore now that Sam would be leaving for college. Sure, they both had friends, some even close enough that they were considered family, but Dean hadn’t even been on a date in at least a year, let alone had a serious relationship since… he couldn’t even remember. Everyone in Lawrence would still be just a phone call away, and Sam himself would only be a few hours’ drive north. Sam left it unspoken between them that Dean moving to within a reasonable driving distance to Stanford would help both of them feel better. He knew Dean would get it without having to turn it into a chick flick moment. Dean preferred to save those for when he was up in front of an audience, giving life to the words in a script.

The scholarships Sam had applied for came through even bigger than he’d hoped and Dean wouldn’t need to worry about clinging to the job stability he’d earned in Lawrence to cover any of Sam’s expenses. That had been a pleasant surprise. Sam hadn’t been relying on the fact when he’d begun crafting his list, but now it only served to strengthen his case.

Sam had planned all along to pick up a part-time job to cover incidental expenses and pocket money, and Dean had never fought him on that before. Now, with the bulk of his other expenses covered for the next four years, the savings account Dean had been socking every last spare cent into since he’d turned eighteen and dropped out of school to work full-time no longer had a purpose. Knowing Dean, Sam assumed that fact alone wouldn’t change anything.

Dean would still worry about him; would still feel responsible for him. That money had always been Sam’s college fund. He knew Dean wouldn’t willingly touch it to help himself.

Unless Sam could convince him otherwise.

When their dad had disappeared at the beginning of Dean’s senior year, they hadn’t thought much of it at first. It was just the latest in a long string of disappearances. He’d blow town, leave Sam and Dean with a couple hundred bucks, and then turn up a week or so later with a wad of cash and a hangover. Two weeks went by, then three, without a word from John. When their rent came due Dean scraped together enough to cover it from his weekend job at Bobby’s garage. By the end of the next month when they fell woefully short, their landlord told them they had two weeks to pay up or get out.

Bobby took them in for a few months, but as soon as he could, Dean dropped out of school and took on several jobs in order to pay their own way. He was not gonna mooch off Bobby’s generosity forever if he had a say in it. He could step up and make sure that at least Sam could finish school without worrying about when John would show up-- or if he’d ever show up again at all. For Dean, that also meant dropping out of the theater club and abandoning the leading role he’d earned himself in the school’s play.

He’d done it without a second thought, or at least that’s what he’d wanted Sam to think. From that day forward, Dean never complained about having to give up on his own dreams to take care of Sam. That didn’t mean Sam couldn’t see it wearing on his brother. It’s when Sam first started composing the sorts of detailed arguments he’d been using for years to nudge his brother into doing anything for himself.

_You need a hobby, Dean._

_You need something more than working under cars all day or behind a bar all night. You were always happiest on stage, and you were too good at it to just quit._

_The community theater is having auditions this Thursday. You should go. You should try out. I can make dinner for myself for one night. Go, have fun. I think this role would be awesome for you._

_I miss seeing you perform. I miss seeing you on stage. I miss seeing you that happy._

Yeah, Sam had known all Dean’s weak spots, knew exactly where to push to get the result he wanted.

“I don’t know if I should be proud of you, or terrified that you wanna go to law school,” Dean had said, stunned, the first time Sam had presented his case and convinced Dean to audition for a role. “World’s slipperiest lawyer already at fourteen.”

And that had been the end of it. Dean slumped back in his chair and sighed while Sam grinned to himself and went right back to his homework. But Dean went to the audition and he’d earned himself the starring role. For a long time, that had been enough to keep Dean happy. As long as he was making enough to cover their expenses and put a little away every month toward Sam’s college fund, he really had been content to let the acting be an occasional side gig.

With the next four years of his future now relatively secure, Sam had known it was time to push Dean again.

And it had worked.

They’d packed up their lives, said goodbye to everyone and everything they’d ever known, and driven out to California. Dean dropped Sam off at Stanford and then headed south to Los Angeles with just under ten grand in his pocket and list of references from his acting coach back in Kansas.

It hadn’t been easy, the last few years. Dean found a job at a garage near the rundown old shoebox apartment he rented out, and made enough to cover his bills. It was finding acting work that was more of a challenge. Sure there were far more opportunities for an aspiring actor in Hollywood than there were in Lawrence, Kansas, but there were also far more people just like him who’d flocked to the city in hopes of landing one of those same finite opportunities. Competition for parts was fierce, but weekly calls to Sam had kept him hopeful that he’d eventually land something.

After a few months he’d accepted a guest starring role on a procedural cop drama, if Bad Guy #2 counted as a “guest starring” role. Three days of AFTRA minimum pay had been a nice bonus, too. He’d reluctantly had to dip into Sam’s college fund to pay for a new set of tires for his Baby, all in the name of making sure she stayed road-worthy enough to make the occasional trip up to Stanford for a family visit. It felt good to be able to pay back what he'd borrowed with interest.

Apparently someone had been impressed with his menacing glower or the convincing way he’d thrown a punch, because his agent began finding him a steadier and steadier string of jobs after that. A few more increasingly prominent TV show roles, and then a couple of minor but well-received parts in a series of spy thriller movies, and he began earning a name for himself.

When his agent called him in for a meeting nearly a year ago, he’d been a little concerned that she was going to tell him the work had dried up and that she was unable to find him any more jobs. After a frantic phone call to his brother, who reassured him that he had nothing to worry about because his last film had done great, Dean put on a shirt he’d actually ironed and his nicest pair of jeans, gave himself a pep talk in the bathroom mirror, and then drove downtown to meet with his agent.

Parking his Baby in Hollywood was a bitch, but there was no way in hell he was giving up his girl. He’d grudgingly pay the ridiculous rates to park in the garage to keep his Impala safe for the afternoon. Assuming he wasn’t about to be fired, his agency might even validate.

Dean walked through the doors of Case and Talbot feeling as nervous and apprehensive as he had the very first time he’d been there. The grandiosity of the venerable office was more than a little intimidating, and it still boggled him to think that people with that kind of money would want to represent someone like him. Still, he was an actor, and if the rags weren’t lying, most people thought he was a pretty damn good one. Dean knew how to perform under pressure. He let himself slide into the headspace of a cool and confident businessman, maybe with a touch of federal agent swagger, and stepped up to the receptionist’s desk.

“Hi. Dean Winchester. I have a one o'clock appointment with Ms. Talbot.”

The perky blonde receptionist just grinned at him. “I know who you are, silly. You can go right on through. Bela’s expecting you.”

Dean didn’t let the strangely familiar way the woman-- Becky, if he remembered correctly-- greeted him rattle him from his performance. He gave her a quick appreciative nod and then strode confidently down the hall to Bela’s office.

She usually kept in touch with him by phone and email, calling to discuss various roles he might be interested in auditioning for and then sending along scripts and other correspondence when necessary. He hadn’t been back to the office more than a handful of times since that first visit, but in a staid old institution like Case and Talbot, nothing much had changed in the last two years.

The walls were still paneled in wood, with portraits of various superstar clients interspersed with artworks by painters so famous that even Dean recognized them at a glance. Dean’s face wasn’t among the portraits, at least not yet. Maybe not ever if he let himself slip out of character before he even made it to Bela’s door. He pulled himself together and knocked twice.

“Come in, Dean,” Bela called out. “And shut the door behind you.”

Dean came in and did as he was told. He knew how to hit his marks. Pleasantries exchanged, Bela asked him to sit and then seemed to compose herself in a way very similar to Dean’s little ritual out in the hallway. She sat up straight and confident, tossed her long brown hair over one shoulder and then slid a manila folder across her desk toward Dean.

“I know this is highly irregular,” she began in her most formal classy British tone. “Normally I wouldn’t have made you drive across town to discuss a potential role, but I felt this required your immediate attention.”

A potential role? Dean let himself relax just a fraction. At least he wasn’t getting fired. Bela raised an eyebrow and nodded down at the folder, so Dean took a deep breath and flipped it open. He didn’t even have time to start reading the documents inside before Bela started talking again.

“I’ve been approached directly by the producer of a new film series. They wrote the part with you in mind, and they haven’t even considered another actor for the role.”

Dean froze, slowly raised his eyes from the incomprehensible offer in front of him to take in Bela’s barely-restrained smile.

“They wha?”

Bela’s smile grew into a grin. “It’s a good thing they’re not asking you to _write_ the film, but they do expect your performance to be more articulate than that.”

Dean just stared at her for a few seconds, letting it all sink in.

Bela smiled pleasantly at Dean’s numb expression. “The only drawback is they’re asking for a three film commitment from you. No outside work for any other studios until your contract is complete. If the franchise is successful, there’s a potential for more, but that would be renegotiated down the line.”

“Three?” Dean croaked out and then cleared his throat. “What?”

“I understand it’s a lot to take in,” Bela said, leaning back in her leather chair. “And I confess the main reason I wanted to present this offer in person was so I could enjoy that exact look on your face.”

Dean shook himself and realized his mouth had been hanging open. He snapped it shut and swallowed hard. “Three films. They want _me_ to star in three films.”

Bela finally took pity on him, or she’d just drunk her fill of Dean’s flustered shock, and began explaining the details of the agreement. She covered the week’s worth of negotiations she’d already made with the studio, the producer, and several other people involved with production. Filming was set to begin in a few months, pending Dean’s agreement, with a release date for the first movie scheduled right at the beginning of the following summer’s blockbuster season.

By the end of their meeting, Dean’s unrufflable professional actor persona had fallen away completely and both he and Bela were celebrating the launch of Dean’s career from second-string face in the crowd to one of Hollywood’s brightest up and coming leading men. He’d signed without any hesitation or reservations on the dotted line, and left with a copy of the scripts and a freshly inked non-disclosure agreement in hand.

So of course he called Sam the second he got home to tell him all about it.

“I haven’t read the entire script yet, but Bela did, and she swears it’s gold, Sammy.”

“So you have no idea what it’s about?” Sam prodded again.

“Eh, it’s kinda complicated, but it’s about this brother and sister who drive around the country fighting monsters and demons. They get caught up in a bunch of shit that kicks off the apocalypse, and it’s up to them to save the world. Wild, right?”

Sam hummed thoughtfully. “So I guess you’re the brother. You know who’s playing your sister?”

“Lisa Braeden,” Dean said, giddy about the news he’d be co-starring alongside an Oscar nominee. She brought a lot of clout to what might otherwise have been just another fantasy horror popcorn flick.

“Oh shit, Dean. That’s awesome. So, you think there’s gonna be some chemistry between the two of you?”

Dean reeled back and made a face at his phone. “Ew, god Sam. She’s playing my _sister_ , for chrissakes.”

Sam laughed at him. “Yeah, Dean. She’s _playing_ your sister. She’s not really your sister.”

“You’re right. You’re my real sister, Samantha. Now get your head out of the gutter before you mess up all that pretty hair.”

“Whatever, Dean. Speaking of the gutter, have you been seeing anyone lately?”

“You ask me that almost every time we talk, and the answer’s still the same.”

Bela had warned him about making the tabloids for the wrong reasons, and he’d been perfectly content to avoid making a public spectacle of himself. He’d had a few flirtations on various sets, a couple of pretty innocent dates with a few people here and there, but he’d largely kept himself in check. He didn’t want to throw away his career before it had even started.

That hadn’t stopped the rumor mill from trying to grind out a story or two about him anyway. When he’d had a few roles under his belt he’d been photographed leaving some nightclub with his good friend he’d met back on the set of his very first acting gig in LA. The tabloids hadn’t yet picked up on the fact that Charlie was very openly a lesbian and had only been out with Dean because she’d dared him to dance in public.

For his first major movie premiere, even though he’d only had a minor role in the film, he’d caused quite a buzz on the red carpet when he showed up with a man on his arm. Aaron had been one of the set designers who’d worked on the film, and even though they’d actually been out on a few slightly awkward dates, they’d eventually become good friends. Dean just wanted him to get to experience the other, more glamorous side of Hollywood for a change. The dude deserved it after busting his ass behind the scenes.

Either way, Dean hadn’t met anyone he felt strongly enough about to put himself through that mill again. It just wasn’t worth it. He sighed and tried again to explain it to his brother.

“I get it Dean. I do. It’s just I worry about you. I want you to be happy, and I know you’re about to hit it big, but I also know you’re happiest when you’ve got people around for you to take care of.”

“I still got you,” Dean replies, softening a little. “And I got my friends. Everything else can wait a little longer.”

“Yeah, I guess so. You never know when you’ll meet the right person.”

Dean took the opportunity to change the subject with both hands. “So, how’s Jess?”

Sam had begged off coming to visit for another few weeks to spend the first half of the summer with his girlfriend’s family out in Colorado. They were definitely getting serious, and Dean couldn’t be happier for his little brother. He missed having Sam around, but the training regimen he was about to embark on for his new role was going to be taking up a lot of his time over the next few months anyway, and he was glad Sam had someone else to rely on for a while.


	2. Chapter 2

The studio had Dean on a ridiculous workout schedule. He reported to the gym almost daily to get in shape for the physically demanding role. Not that he’d been some scrawny weakling to start with; working in a garage for years had seen to that. He had to learn several styles of martial arts and perfect his fight scene choreography in addition to building his stamina and bulking up just a little bit. There was also extensive weapons training he’d had to endure despite his father having passed on most of his own Marine Corps training to both him and Sam when they were kids. Dean was no stranger to a gun range, and the studio’s prop master was more than satisfied with Dean’s knowledge of guns, knives, and other weapons-- but rules were rules. He still had to sit through hours of safety training and certification to keep everything above board. Not to mention learning all his lines and really coming to understand the character he would embody on screen.

To the worldwide audience, Dean would _be_ Mike Harrison, the hero who saves the world from Satan himself. He wanted to give them the hero they all deserved.

It had been a grueling couple of months, so when Sam finally turned up to spend a week with him before going back to Stanford for his junior year, Dean was relieved to take a few days off to just hang out with his brother. They’d been strolling around near the beach at Santa Monica when one of the damn paparazzi ambushed them coming out of a diner after lunch. Sam actually had the nerve to laugh at the situation when the guy started shouting questions at Dean.

“Dean Winchester, right? You’re looking fit. Who’s that you’re with? Are you getting in shape for a new role? What did you have for lunch?”

Dean rolled his eyes behind his dark sunglasses and just kept walking down the sidewalk toward his car, with Sam doubling over in laughter at his heels.

“Laugh it up, dude. See how fucking funny you think it is when your face is splashed across the grocery checkout lanes next week under the headline _Dean Winchester’s Mystery Date_.”

That sobered Sam right up. They were halfway back to Dean’s apartment before Sam spoke up again. “So why didn’t you just tell the dude I’m your brother?”

Dean turned at stared at him like Sam had lost his damn mind before focusing back on traffic. “And throw you under the bus? No fucking thanks. It’s better to keep your mouth shut then give those vultures anything.”

“So what, it’s better to let them think we’re dating than to tell them we’re brothers? Hollywood’s more fucked up than I thought.”

Dean made a frustrated little sound at the back of his throat and banged the heel of his palm against the steering wheel when they were forced to stop at yet another red light. “You’re going back to school in a couple days. It’s not like they’re gonna see you hanging around with me again for a while. If I told them you’re my brother, they’d start digging. They’d find you up at school and you don’t need that shit in your life.”

“I can take care of myself, Dean. And I don’t think they’d really be interested in following _me_ around. I’m just a guy. I’m not Hollywood Megastar Dean Winchester.”

“Yeah, but you are Dean Winchester-adjacent. If they thought they could squeeze my tragic backstory or whatever bullshit outta you, they’d hunt you down. Especially once we start production next month and word leaks out about the project. Trust me, Sam. It’s not fucking worth it.”

Dean had finally upgraded from his shoebox to a decent apartment a couple miles from the studio where he’d ostensibly be working for the next several years, if everything went according to plan. A good bit of the film series would be shot on location around the midwest, but a fair bit more of it would involve long days filming on set in LA. They’d paid him a hefty bonus for signing on to the project and it more than covered the upgrade to his improved living situation. Not to mention the upgrade to Sam’s living situation. He and Jess now shared a cozy little apartment near campus, and Sam had a reliable (if second-hand) car to drive down to LA to visit any time he wanted. It worked out well for everyone.

Dean’s new building also had a gated underground parking garage. His Baby was secure and he had a little bit more privacy. That didn’t keep the tabloid people from occasionally trying to get a peek into his life, but it gave him a little bit of distance from their persistent presence. Yeah, it kinda got lonely, but he kept finding ways convince himself that he was doing okay, and that would have to be enough for now.

 

Sam went back to Stanford a few days later and Dean dove headfirst back into work. Just before filming started, the studio published an official press release about the production and Dean’s private life was suddenly anything but.

The occasional run-in he’d had with reporters and photographers became an almost daily occurrence. Not only that, but he’d started getting recognized around town. It became nearly impossible to do anything as simple as grocery shopping or stopping for gas without being asked for his autograph or a quick selfie with a fan.

The movie wasn’t even scheduled to be released for another six months, and already Bela was helping him through the process of building a _social media presence_. He had a facebook and twitter account that he updated regularly, and a steadily growing fan base that he found he actually enjoyed interacting with, for the most part. By the time they called cut on the last scene of the first movie, Dean was relieved to get a month off to just relax before they started production on the second.

Production had been pushed up when the studio latched on to the buzz not just around the movie, but around their compelling and intriguing leading man.

He also really enjoyed working with Lisa. The two of them played off one another like real siblings, both on and off screen. It was almost as if Dean’s scoffing remarks to Sam all those months ago about playing brother and sister had been prophetic. Dean adored his co-star and respected the hell out of her talent, but there’d never been any sort of romantic tension between them. Dean was pretty sure the entire production team was relieved about that, considering how much trouble the two of them seemed to get up to without the added drama of a potentially catastrophic romantic entanglement to worry about. With at least two more films to make together in their immediate future, a failed romantic relationship snarling production could’ve sunk their careers faster than the Titanic.

“You were a diamond in the rough, Dean,” Bela told him over lunch after shooting had wrapped. She’d laid out the new proposal to finish filming the second movie before the first was even released in order to capitalize on the expected success of Dean’s rising stardom. “The studio wasn’t prepared for you to be such a hit with the fans.”

Dean grumbled a little at the reminder and stabbed at his steak a bit more aggressively. “Yeah, well there’s a few fans I’d like to give back, thanks.”

Bela noticed his shoulders slump a bit and suddenly went from relaxed and happy business manager to viciously protective mama bear. “Are you having trouble with someone online?”

Dean shrugged and took another bite, trying to focus on his food, but Bela wouldn’t let him brush this off.

“I’m being entirely serious here, Dean. If you’re being harassed, I need to know about it. It’s my job to keep you happy and safe.”

That got a laugh out of him, but he sighed and dropped his fork to his plate and figured she deserved the truth. “Just the usual internet bullshit. Some people get online and forget there’s real human beings on the other end of the shit they type.”

“What kind of _shit_ are these people typing?” The curse word sounded strange in Bela’s normally prim tone, but it emphasized just how fiercely protective she felt toward her clients.

“Mostly harmless stuff. I mean I get about a thousand love letters a day. Some of ‘em are a little unsettling, but mostly they’re just unsettlingly personal, you know? Sometimes they fight among themselves, but if I don’t post anything for a few days everything seems to settle down again.”

“Hmmm,” Bela said, and then spent a contemplative minute taking a few sips of her wine.

“Hmmm, what?”

“Well, that’s exactly what Becky has been reporting to me. She monitors our clients’ social media presences and keeps me updated if any problems arise. She did mention that she’s had to put out a few fires, even blocked some of the worst offenders, but she hasn’t picked up anything truly distressing.”

Dean stared at Bela for a moment. “Becky the receptionist? Becky?”

“Yes,” Bela replied. “She’s quite protective of all of our clients, and she’s well known in certain circles on the internet, under a variety of colorful screen names. She’s proven herself an invaluable resource, and she’s rather fond of you in particular, I believe.”

Dean shifted a little uncomfortably recalling what he’d always thought of as Becky’s excessive familiarity with him when he visited the office. He guessed that explained it.

“You should know that you’ve also started receiving fan mail at the office. Letters, a few packages, that sort of thing. I meant to ask what you’d like us to do with it.”

“Do with it?” Dean was completely at a loss. He had no fucking clue. “What do you usually do with it?”

“If you’d like to take care of it all yourself, I’ll have it forwarded on to you. Or we can have a staff member read the correspondence and send stock replies if you’d prefer.”

Dean thought that over for a minute and then just shrugged. “I guess do the usual then. I have enough trouble remembering to send an occasional tweet let alone answer fan mail.”

Bela smiled at him and reached over to pat his hand reassuringly. “Good choice. I’ll get someone on it this afternoon. We’ll keep you informed of any mail that might require your attention and take care of the rest.”


	3. Chapter 3

_Fan mail_. Dean couldn’t get the strange notion out of his head for the entire drive home. People were actually sending _him_ fan mail. Writing fan mail was the sort of thing he’d done when he was a kid, when he’d had his first taste of acting in his third grade class play. His father had laughed at him when he’d asked if he could send a letter to Viggo Mortensen, and told him how he hoped he could grow up to play a character as awesome as Aragorn. He could still hear John’s mocking laughter ringing in his ears. All these years later Dean knew better than to take his father’s drunken words to heart, but he felt like he’d been fighting against them his whole life.

The next day when Dean had told his teacher he didn’t want to be in the drama club anymore, she ferreted out the reason why. His daddy told him he shouldn’t have to put on a costume to pretend to be a man. She helped him mail his letter and offered to let him use her home address, just in case he got a reply from the actor that his father might not look too kindly on. When Dean got back a short, encouraging note and a signed picture a few months later, he was practically over the moon. One stranger’s act of kindness was enough to help him hold on to his dream. So yeah, he knew how important those responses could be in some cases. It was the other cases that he really tried not to think too hard about.

Like the women (and even a couple of dudes) who regularly fought over him online, each of them claiming to have superior insight into what made Dean Winchester tick. It was beyond creepy, and he almost didn’t even want to think about what those kinds of people would put into a private letter to him if that’s the sort of shit they felt comfortable saying about him in public. Yeah, he could leave the unenviable task of reading those letters to someone who wouldn’t be personally skeeved by them.

He spent the rest of his first real day off in more than two months just lounging around his living room. He caught up on a few shows that he hadn’t had time to watch while he’d been filming late into the night most evenings, or had just been too tired to focus on even when he’d had a couple of hours to himself. Peace and quiet, a little alone time and a few beers was exactly the relaxing kind of afternoon that he’d needed. His lunchtime discussion with Bela was long since forgotten by the time he’d finished dinner and decided to check his email before watching another show.

Dean sorted through the junk mail quickly so he could focus on one from Sam inviting him up to spend Christmas with him and Jess. He replied with an enthusiastic _hell yes_ , since he wouldn’t need to report back to set until the first week of January. It would sure beat spending another lonely and depressing Christmas in LA like last year, when Sam and Jess had spent the holiday with her parents. It had also been far too long since Dean had driven up to visit Sam. For the last year or so it had invariably been Sam coming down to visit him.

It would probably do him good to get out of Hollywood and go someplace where he might not be recognized every damn day. He sent the reply and then noticed a new email from Bela sitting in his inbox. Just seeing her name brought their entire conversation from earlier rushing back, and made him hesitate opening it. He’d finally been chilling after working his ass off for months on end and didn’t want to even think about work again already. Then again, if Bela was still at the office sending him email at seven o'clock on a Friday night, the least he could do was read the damned thing.

It started off fine, with Bela’s particular sense of humor, thanking him for a lovely lunch. Sure, she’d picked up the tab, but she’d earned that money and a hell of a lot more as her commission off Dean’s latest paycheck. It was her idea of a cute little joke, and Dean just sighed and kept reading.

She’d set one of her interns to work sorting through Dean’s fan mail and thought he might be interested in some of the highlights. Aside from the usual lot of requests for an autograph or a picture, some fans had written poetry or drawn pictures of him. Bela was setting all of those parcels aside for him to see next time he came into the office. According to Bela, some of them were rather impressive.

There were a few critical letters in the stack, mostly just jerks who felt the need to express their dissatisfaction that he’d been cast in a role they thought much better suited a variety of other big Hollywood names. Dean would never understand the point of writing to someone just to tell him the author preferred another actor. Why waste the energy? Why not just write to the dude you actually liked? It seemed like a waste of a perfectly good postage stamp to him. But whatever, everyone needed a hobby, and Bela’s staff was well trained in how to handle those sorts of things. The intern, Alex, sent those letters exactly where they belonged: to the paper shredder.

The final bunch were the few letters that went into a special file that Bela referred to as their Insurance Policy Drawer. Bela had explained the necessity when Dean first signed on with Case and Talbot, and she’d introduced him to their Director of Security Operations, a paranoid old dude named Frank who seemed to be as obsessed with clients’ social media presence as he’d recently learned Becky was, but in an entirely different and far more intense way.

Different from the random but harmless critics who just liked to register complaints about things they didn’t like officially and in writing, the letters that ended up in Frank’s files were the ones written with _intent_. Bela didn’t go into detail, but she insisted that they would keep an eye on the situation and would take care of everything should any of those potentially unhinged writers become regular correspondents.

With that she wished him a pleasant evening and signed off, no further reply from him required. Dean let that all sink in while he finished off his beer, and then tabbed over to his twitter account. He hadn’t sent a tweet in a couple of days and it seemed like the thing to do now that he’d wrapped filming. He thought about what he should say for a few minutes, reading idly through the tweets from his fellow cast and crew members over the last day or so. They were the only people he followed, so his feed was a consistent string of virtual high-fives, melancholy _I miss being on set already_ reminiscences, and a couple of _Only 32 days before we’re all back together again!_ reminders, some including the portrait of the entire assembled cast and crew that someone had taken at the wrap party the previous night.

Dean really did miss them all and was grateful to have such an amazing group of people to work with day in, day out. They’d all become like family to one another. He really was looking forward to seeing them all again, so when it came time to compose his own tweet, that’s what he decided to go with.

_So grateful to my Supernatural family, and I can’t wait to get back to work with you guys on #2._

Yeah, that sounded good. So he hit the tweet button and shut the computer. He’d be seeing all those people soon enough. Right then, all he wanted to see was the latest season of The Walking Dead.

The following few days had been mostly uneventful. Dean hibernated in his apartment enjoying the fact that he didn’t need to be anywhere in particular. No alarm clock, no schedule, and no reason to leave the comfort of his home at all.

He finally ventured out the following Wednesday to do a little Christmas shopping. He picked up a special edition box set of the books that they’d based the movie series he’d been working on for his nerdy little brother, a bunch of rare old comic books for his friend Charlie, and a fancy but dangerous looking fountain pen for Bela. He was just on his way to a handmade pottery shop in search of something for Jess when he noticed a woman he’d spotted several times throughout the day, as if she’d been following him around.

He sighed and shook his head, and kept walking. Probably just another fan trying to figure out where she recognized him from. At worst, maybe trying to catch him doing something inappropriate so she could sell a compromising picture to the tabloids. At least she didn’t look like the typical paparazzo. They tended to be a bit more disheveled, like they’d been sleeping in their cars all week, staked out and waiting to snap the perfect picture. No, this chick stood out for the opposite reason.

She was smoking hot and dressed to kill. Her long black evening gown seemed out of place on a Wednesday afternoon, even in Beverly Hills. The fact that Dean had seen her in no fewer than three different shops and she hadn’t purchased a single thing just added to the sense of wrongness he got from her. Smoking hot or not, she radiated an intense creepy vibe more than anything else.

It wasn’t until he’d picked up a really cool looking hand-blown glass fruit bowl for Jess (she was the one who got Sammy into all that farmer’s market crap in the first place, the least Dean could do was give her something to display all their weird fruit in) that the woman finally approached him. He was making his way out of the store when she cornered him on the sidewalk, walking directly into his path.

“Excuse me,” Dean had said, readjusting the heavy bags in his hands and preparing to step around her.

“No, excuse me,” the woman replied, stepping back into his personal space and reaching out to rest one hand on his chest. “I’ve been seeing you around all day, and I think it must be some sort of sign.”

Dean chuckled uncomfortably, trying to take a step back but stumbling over a decorative planter box outside the pottery shop. The woman used the opportunity to grab his elbow to steady him, pulling herself even closer so she could practically whisper into his ear in a low and sultry voice.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Dean. You are far more striking in person. I can see why your name has been on everyone’s lips lately. I’m sure we’ll be seeing one another again very soon.”

Dean stood there speechless, opening and closing his mouth a few times and trying to come up with something-- anything-- to say. Nothing that sprang immediately to mind seemed appropriate to blurt out at a random stranger on the street though. She was a little unsettling, but she hadn’t really done anything to deserve a harsh rebuff. _How about hell no? I really don’t think so, lady. Not if my agent has anything to say about it._ And that last thought, imagining what Bela would want him to do in this situation, gave him the courage to finally sidestep around this strange woman.

He cleared his throat and shook off her hold on his elbow. “Sorry for running into you like that, but I need to get going.”

“I’m sure you do,” the woman replied, nonplussed as she stood there on the sidewalk and watched Dean hurry off toward his car.

He took the long route home, making several unnecessary detours to be sure the woman hadn’t been trying to follow him. By his third random turn, Dean was beginning to doubt his extreme reaction to what was probably just a random, if slightly creepier than usual, fan. He’d probably blown the entire encounter out of proportion after nearly a week of Bela’s nightly fan mail updates. Yeah, that was probably it. He was just being paranoid. He decided he’d call Bela the minute he got home and ask her to maybe keep him a little _less_ updated on the daily wackadoo briefings if they were gonna make him this jumpy over every fan who ran into him on the street.

Dean set his newly-purchased presents down on the coffee table and pulled out his phone. He decided to text Charlie first to confirm their pre-Christmas Christmas plans, now that he had a gift he was sure she couldn’t top.

_< <Still on for tomorrow night?_

Charlie replied right away.

_> >Absolutely. I’ll be over around 8. Prepare to be demolished. In a festive way._

They were planning an all-night combination gaming binge and Christmas party, since Dean was leaving Saturday for Stanford. It was nothing fancy, just the two of them having some fun together. Charlie was like a sister to Dean, and with Sam so far away, he’d really come to rely on her companionship over the last few years. She was the closest thing to real family that he had in LA.

That taken care of, he dialed Bela’s direct office number and spent a few minutes explaining his current dilemma to her. When he finished, he expected Bela to cheerfully agree to lighten up on the reports and keep him mostly out of the day-to-day loop of the wacky fan front. Bela’s eventual response was not encouraging.

“Hmmm,” she replied after a tense pause. “I think it would be best for you to drop by tomorrow. Say, around noon? There’s a sensitive issue that I think would be best addressed in person.”

“Sensitive issue?” Dean replied warily.

“Yes, well, I’ll see you then.”

And she hung up.

Dean stared at his phone for a minute, debating whether to call back and see if he could get a more direct answer from Becky about what the hell was going on, but when the screen timed out and went black he tossed the phone down on the table next to the gift bags and slumped back onto his comfortable couch cushions. He knew he’d just have to wait this mystery out.

The following morning he headed out to Bela’s office. He’d never been there during the holiday season, and the minute he stepped through the front door he was assaulted by the Christmas spirit. The entire office was decked in balsam-scented glory, from the huge Christmas tree by Becky’s desk to the pine garlands draped over every doorway and window.  On Becky’s usually tidy desk, there was a bowl filled with candy canes next to a platter covered with festively decorated Christmas cookies. It was as if the North Pole had express-delivered a couple dozen elves to puke holiday cheer all over the place, complete with softly piped-in carols.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there gaping at the spectacle, but it had obviously been long enough for Becky to call Bela out to rescue him.

“Dean, how wonderful of you to come,” she said, taking him by the elbow and steering him over to Becky’s desk. “Have a cookie or two, and come back to my office. There’s someone here you need to meet.”

Like a deer in the headlights in the moment the car swerved around him, Dean finally noticed Becky grinning up at him and just nodded absently back at her. He blindly reached down and grabbed a cookie, shoving it in his mouth while Bela led him back to her office, talking the entire way.

“After your call last night I had Frank review the most recent batch of correspondence and we came to the executive decision that things may have already escalated beyond our comfort zone. We believe the woman you encountered yesterday may have been the source of several… less than savory messages.”

Bela ushered him into her office, which was also dressed to the nines in holiday finery. Red and gold baubles and holly branches seemed to be strewn across every level surface in the room, barring Bela’s desk. The only truly unexpected decoration was a man seated in one of the plush guest chairs. All Dean could tell about him from the doorway was that he had a mop of messy dark hair and wore a rumpled tan overcoat, which seemed just a little out of place even for December in warm, sunny LA. It wasn’t _that_ cold out. When Bela shut the door behind them, the man remained seated but turned to inspect them, tilting his head in confusion as if they’d intruded on his solitude somehow.

“Dean, I’d like you to meet Castiel,” Bela said, depositing Dean by the other guest chair and walking around her desk to her own seat. “He’s a specialist with Seraphim Security. We’ve contracted them to work with a number of our other clients in the past, and Castiel has come to us highly recommended.”

Dean hesitated for a second before sitting, casting another glance at the unassuming man and finally getting a good look at his face. Yeah, maybe not quite so unassuming as he’d first assumed. It only took one look at the dude’s deep blue eyes, sharp nose, and even sharper jawline to reclassify him as practically gorgeous. Dean tried to manage a friendly smile, but was pretty sure he looked more pathetic and stunned than anything. So much for his reputation as an actor, unable to even offer the guy a polite greeting in front of his agent. He settled for an awkward wave while Castiel studied him like he was a particularly intriguing specimen under a microscope. Dean squirmed under the scrutiny, but it strangely made him feel a little better about the less-than-stellar first impression he’d given the guy. At least Dean’s awkward bumbling had been intended to seem friendly.

Dean finally cleared his throat and made an attempt at coherent speech to try and lighten the guy’s mood, if that was even possible. Shame, because he was damn fine to look at otherwise. “Security specialist? Is that supposed to explain the Columbo coat?”

Castiel just squinted at him and then looked down at himself, picking at the collar of his coat in confusion. He looked back up at Dean, wide eyed, as if he hadn’t been aware that he’d committed some sort of fashion crime and was now deeply penitent. “Is there a problem with my attire?”

Dean gripped the arms of his chair a little too tightly at the gruff sound of the man’s rumbling baritone voice and then forced himself to draw on every last shred of his years of acting experience to compose himself. Dammit, he was supposed to be a professional. Dean’s initial assessment of _stoic robot_ shattered in one instant of what Dean could only process as _oh my god that’s fucking adorable_.

He’d spent two months working side by side with Lisa fucking Braeden and never been this overwhelmed, and he’d spent the prior two years before that privately drooling over her. Ten seconds in this guy’s presence was enough to undo twenty years of training, and then some.

At least with Lisa he’d had time to prepare himself before meeting her. Bela just sprang this dude on him without warning. Sure, that explained his reaction.

“No, Castiel,” Bela continued after taking them both in, just sitting there staring at each other, for a moment. “I think Dean was trying to be funny.”

“I see,” Castiel replied, regarding Bela for a second and then returning his attention to Dean.

Bela cleared her throat and tried again since it seemed that neither Dean nor Castiel had anything more to say. “We believe your little fan encounter yesterday may be part of a larger problem. We don’t have any proof yet, nor enough evidence to apply for a restraining order, but we feel it’s best to assume a more proactive stance when it comes to your safety.”

“Wait, you think the stalker chick has been sending some of the creepy letters?” Dean asked, finally tearing his gaze away from Castiel’s face, only to be confronted with the most serious look that Bela had ever given him.

Her features softened into a concerned smile. “We can’t be sure, but some key phrases you reported she used were similar enough to the language in a couple of your Insurance Policy letters that Frank and I decided it was best to take swift action before things went too far.”

“So what does Constantine here have to do with it?”

“It’s Castiel,” the man corrected him earnestly. “I believe I am here to be the _swift action_.”

Dean didn’t know whether to laugh or not. Dude actually used finger quotes while describing himself as “swift action.” With a perfectly straight face. He turned back to Bela again to find her grinning delightedly at Castiel.

“Yes, well. Seraphim Security has a reputation for discreet and capable agents. Castiel will be serving as your personal assistant for the foreseeable future.”

“I don’t need help doing my taxes or balancing my budget, thanks,” Dean said. “And I don’t need a personal assistant. I don’t even have a schedule for the next three weeks. I’m on vacation.”

“It’s just a cover, Dean. Trust me, Castiel is more than capable of keeping up with your grueling daily agenda,” Bela said with a smirk. “As well as handling your security. I want him to shadow you until we determine that your biggest fan isn’t going to pose a threat to your personal safety.”

“What’s he gonna do if she is, frighten her off with an extra-sharp pencil?” Dean replied, sitting up straighter in his chair. “I’ve been in physical training for Supernatural for the last eight months. I think I can defend myself against one grabby fan with an unhealthy obsession. She didn’t seem all that scary.”

“Dean,” Bela replied in a scolding tone. “You called me yesterday, clearly rattled from the encounter. I believe the description you gave me involved words such as _paranoid_ and _freaky_. The letters we believe were written by that same woman paint a much darker picture that I’d rather you didn’t have to see. It’s my job to ensure your happiness, so that you can devote all your energy toward making the best damn films you possibly can. That should be your _only_ concern.”

Bela refused to hear another word out of Dean and continued talking over his attempted protestations.

“That said, I expect you to cooperate fully with Castiel. He’s to remain by your side whenever you leave home. You still have a spare room, correct?”

Dean realized he was staring, open mouthed, as Bela stood up and leaned across her desk, both hands resting on the surface so she could loom over him. She was a surprisingly effective loomer. He snapped his jaw shut and blinked at her a few times before nodding.

“Good. Then I’ll leave the two of you to work out all the details of your new arrangement for yourselves.”

“But I’m leaving Saturday to visit Sam,” Dean finally thought to mention. “I’m not even gonna be in town for the next week.”

“Well, then, I hope Sam won’t mind an additional guest for Christmas. This is non-negotiable, Dean,” Bela said, and then dropped back into her chair. “We’re worried about your safety. Please, just humor me even if you think I’m being ridiculous. Consider it your Christmas present to me.”

Just then Dean remembered her actual present, tucked into the inside pocket of his jacket. He fished it out and set it on her desk. “Yeah, well, I already got you this.”

Bela laughed and then gestured at Castiel. “Well, then, I guess you can consider Castiel my gift to you. I hope you enjoy him in good health.”

Feeling dismissed, Dean stood up and made his way to the door. Without a word, Castiel rose and followed him. When Dean turned at the door to wish Bela a Merry Christmas, Castiel was right there, not six inches in front of him. And whoa, up close his eyes were really freaking blue. Not to mention this was the first time Dean realized just how big the guy was, nearly his own height when he wasn’t squished down like a pile of laundry in Bela’s cushy chair. Dean thought he might be staring again so he took a bracing breath and said the first not-idiotically-dumbstruck thing that popped into his head to cover up his awkwardness. Like an ass.

“Dude, personal space.”

Cas backed up a full step and looked down at the floor between them, muttering a terse, “My apologies.”

And yep, Dean felt like an ass. This guy was just trying to do his job, and it’s not like he was a mind reader who could’ve known Dean was gonna just stop walking and turn around all of a sudden. Dean felt like he’d kicked a puppy. Short of actually treating the man like a puppy in front of Bela, he figured it was best to pretend like nothing had happened. He just cleared his throat and glanced over Castiel’s shoulder to mumble out a farewell before edging out the door into the hallway with Castiel right back on his heels.

“Don’t indulge yourself too much, Dean,” Bela called out as he shut the door. “Remember you’re expected to be on set, fully fit and ready to start shooting again in three weeks.”

In the relative privacy of the long, empty corridor, Dean turned again to Cas, this time giving him plenty of warning. It was partly a test, but partly just self defense on Dean’s part. If the guy was actually trained in any sort of martial arts, he’d easily pick up on the shift in Dean’s shoulders. It was an obvious tell to anyone with fighting experience, but nearly invisible to your average person. To Dean’s surprise and relief, Cas stopped more than a foot behind him as Dean turned and let out a little amused chuckle. To an outsider, it probably looked like they’d planned the graceful little maneuver. He didn’t even want to think about the possibilities this might open up for messing with the guy and shoved it to the back of his mind for future consideration.

“So I guess we’re gonna be roomies for a while, Cas. Uh, sorry if you had any plans for the holiday.”

Castiel tilted his head curiously at the presumptuousness of Dean shortening his name but didn’t call him out on it, so Dean decided he must not really mind it.

“I don’t really have any close family to spend the holiday with. My only plans were to watch over you.”

Dean was a little taken aback by that. It could’ve come off as creepy, but still not quite as creepy as his mystery stalker had been; but Cas was just so damn earnest about it. He couldn’t help but find it strangely endearing.

Shit, no. Stop. Dean couldn’t let his thoughts veer off track. It was fine to mess with the guy a little but it was absolutely not fine to find him _endearing_. He resorted to his usual tactic for squashing down unwanted feelings under these sorts of circumstances. Sass.

“Dude, you take your job a little too seriously.”

“Your safety is my highest priority, Dean. I am very serious about it.”

Cas was studying him like a pinned bug again, but now that Dean was right up in his face-- and dammit how did that happen again? He resisted the urge to take a half step back and stood his ground. Underneath the intense stare, Dean could see that Cas meant every word. It wasn’t just the company line. Dean had become so used to being surrounded by actors, by people who rarely were what they seemed on the surface, that Castiel’s direct honesty was startlingly refreshing. It made it hard to look away from the man.

Well, it added to the steadily growing list of things that made it hard to look away.

A phone rang somewhere off behind one of the closed doors and Dean suddenly remembered where they were. Not in some private bubble where they had the leisure to stand around gazing into each other’s eyes all afternoon… He cleared his throat and hooked his thumb over his shoulder toward the lobby.

“Well, then, I guess you can follow me back to my place. You got luggage and stuff? We’ll be out of town for a week or so, if you need to swing home and pick up anything extra I guess now’s the time to do it.”

“I believe I have everything I’ll need here,” Castiel replied, following Dean once more. “I left my luggage with Becky at the front desk.”

“What, you don’t trust the valet here?” Dean joked, stepping up to Becky’s desk and picking up another cookie. He’d barely even registered the taste of the first one he’d had, and it only seemed fair to give them a proper, unbiased assessment.

“I’m expected to remain at your side for the foreseeable future, Dean. I can’t do that if I’m in a separate vehicle. Seraphim Security dropped me off.”

“You do drive, though, right?”

Cas just rolled his eyes and reached behind the desk to pick up his suitcase before returning to Dean’s side.

“Oh my goodness,” Becky suddenly exclaimed.

Dean and Cas both flinched at her sudden outburst, only to turn to find her grinning wildly at them and pointing excitedly up at the ceiling.

“Mistletoe! You’re both standing under it!”

Dean slowly turned to look at Cas, who was still scrutinizing the wilting bundle of leaves tied with a bright red bow dangling from an overhead light fixture. He repressed the bemused little grin at Cas’s apparent cluelessness, just shook his head and shrugged at Becky, grabbed another cookie for the road, and headed out the front door. Without even looking back, he knew Cas would be right on his heels again, probably none the wiser about what Becky’s festive freak out even meant.

He’d never tell a soul, but Dean thought it was a damn shame. The guy might be gorgeous. He even might be a badass. And that voice… damn. But everything else? From the potato sack of a coat and his obliviousness to social cues, Dean was at a loss to reconcile them all. It seemed like a hell of game to try.

He walked out of the office cheered by the thought. Maybe Bela had been right after all. He was starting to think he might really enjoy his Christmas present, at least for however long Cas was assigned to protect him.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean’s apartment wasn’t huge, but he did have a guest room that Sam used when he visited, so that’s where he led Cas when they finally made it back there after sitting in traffic for an hour.

“Make yourself at home,” Dean said, quickly checking under the blanket to make sure there were fresh sheets on the bed. “I don’t know if Sammy left stuff in the drawers or closet or whatever, but you can just dump his crap in the hamper if you need the space for your stuff.”

Cas just set his suitcase down on the bed and wandered over to the dresser, hesitantly pulling out one of the drawers and peeking inside before shutting it again.

“I don’t think that’s necessary, if you’re planning to leave again the day after tomorrow,” Cas replied.

Dean shrugged and edged around him toward the door. “Suit yourself, but Sam’s probably not gonna be back here until June. I don’t think he’d mind you settling in for however long you’re gonna be here.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas said, his sincere tone stopping Dean in his tracks. “I understand this is difficult for you, having your privacy invaded like this, having to bring along a virtual stranger on a family trip. I appreciate how kind you’ve been despite all of that.”

“Yeah, well.” Dean fidgeted in the doorway, yet again finding himself staring at Cas like a dope. “I guess it can’t be too easy for you, either.”

Cas shrugged and gave the first hint of something resembling a smile. “I’m not the one being threatened by overbearing fans. This is my job, Dean.”

The reminder was like a bucket of ice water in Dean’s face. Yeah, this was just another job for Cas. He had to try to remember that they weren’t really friends, and that this wasn’t really supposed to be _fun_ , no matter how much of an intriguing mystery Cas turned out to be.

“Yeah, well, the bathroom’s at the end of the hall if you want to freshen up or whatever. It’s all yours, ‘cause were probably not having guests…”

Dean trailed off when he suddenly remembered Charlie was planning to come by that night, and had to backtrack a bit.

“Shit. Charlie’s gonna be here in a few hours. She won’t care if you’ve taken over the bathroom. If she can handle Sammy’s weirdass collection of organic hair shit, she can handle whatever you need to keep in there. Just maybe don’t leave your underwear on the floor, or whatever.”

Dean realized he was rambling when Cas narrowed his eyes at his last comment and he finally shut his mouth.

“Why would I leave my underwear on the floor?”

Dean let out a choked laugh and shook his head. “I don’t even know, man. Sorry. Just, we’re having company for dinner is all. I hope you like pizza.”

“It’s not cheeseburgers, but I’m sure I’ll make do,” Cas replied, still standing rigid in the middle of the room. “If you’d prefer to spend time with your friend alone, I can remain in here.”

Dean took in the look of utter seriousness Cas was giving him and felt slapped once again. “Dude, no! I… I mean, fuck.” Dean ran a hand through his hair and stared at his feet for a second until he was able to get his face under control. He wasn’t sure if Cas had picked up on the combined horror and disappointment he’s sure was completely obvious there, even just for a split second. “I mean, uh, Charlie’s great. We’re just exchanging Christmas presents and probably playing a few games. We’re not having top-secret meetings or anything. Just…” Dean waved a hand at Cas. “I gotta go call Sammy and tell him I’m bringing a plus one on Saturday. You can get changed, or unpacked, or whatever, and I’ll be out in the living room in a bit.”

Cas glanced down at his clothes and then back at Dean. “Is there something wrong with my attire? This is the second time you’ve mentioned it.”

Dean did his best not to laugh, because Cas seemed genuinely concerned. “Nah, not if you’ve got a meeting with Bela Talbot, but dude, we’re staying in tonight. You can at least lose the coat and tie. You know, get comfy, kick your shoes off…”

Dean realized he was babbling again, and he finally did laugh. He’s sure it didn’t sound slightly hysterical, but Cas seemed to understand what he meant and he had that strange little almost-smile tugging at the corners of his lips again. Dean gave an awkward little wave, stepped out into the hall and pulled the door shut behind him, both to give Cas some privacy and to give himself some much needed breathing room.

Now he just had to figure out what the hell he was gonna tell Sam.

 

☆☆☆

 

Castiel stood there for a few seconds after Dean shut the door just staring at the spot where he’d last seen Dean. When he’d signed on with Seraphim Security two years earlier, he’d never actually expected to be given a real assignment in the field. He’d spent some of that time training for a mission like this one, but he’d mostly worked behind the scenes as a strategist and handler for other angels. He’d always found it amusing that Seraphim didn’t refer to their employees as “agents” or “operatives,” but _angels_. He liked to think it was an accurate, if slightly hyperbolic, assessment of their job description; swoop in and rescue people from their own personal hell and then disappear back into the clouds until they were called upon again.

When Bela had called and requested their services the previous evening, most of the other angels were either already deployed on assignments or had requested time off due to the holidays, so Castiel had been asked to step in. He had no familial obligations, no holiday plans to disrupt, and a quick review of Dean’s case file made him certain that he was more than qualified to handle the assignment. He thought it might even prove to be interesting, spending the holiday with a family, even if it wasn’t his own.

He’d had a rather lonely childhood, growing up in a series of isolated rural towns. His father was a reclusive writer, and he’d never even known his mother. When his father wasn’t busy finding a new place to live in hopes that Squirrel, Idaho might provide more inspiration for his latest novel than Diagonal, Iowa or Mooseheart, Illinois had, Castiel was largely left to his own devices. Chuck never even seemed to know what day of the week it was, let alone if it was Christmas. The man had just sort of disappeared one day while Cas was away for his freshman year of college, and had never been heard from again. Castiel sometimes wondered if he’d simply forgotten that he’d ever had a son and just picked up and moved again.

It didn’t even really matter to Cas, because he’d already been recruited by Seraphim. Turns out that the hobbies he’d created to entertain himself-- everything from computer hacking to military history to hand-to-hand combat (hey, when you’re always the strange new kid in rural schools, fighting’s an essential skill), to his mastery of half a dozen languages-- fit right in with what Seraphim was looking for. Not to mention that he was practically immune to one of the biggest difficulties facing most new angels. He’d never really cared much about television or movies, and never felt starstruck in the presence of even the biggest name celebrities. That, he’d been told numerous times by various Seraphim executives, was one of his biggest assets. They’d footed the bill for the rest of his education, gave him an internship at their headquarters so he’d have something useful to do during the summers, and then hired him on full-time the minute he’d graduated.

Dean Winchester, however, had never been in any of his training manuals. Castiel stood in the man’s spare room, staring at the closed door, wondering how the hell he was ever going to make it through this assignment.

Dean’s file hadn’t been extensive. Most of their clients were long established in their careers by the time they’d run into the sorts of difficulty that led them to seek out Seraphim’s services. The dossier Bela had supplied them contained only a short biography listing the minor roles he’d had and a brief mention that he was slated to star in a much-anticipated big budget film scheduled to be released in a few months. His personal history file consisted of nothing much other than his headshot and acting resume, which had given Castiel a bare-bones glimpse into the man he’d be protecting.

Knowing that Dean’s special skills included stage fighting as well as several martial arts, training in weapons and military tactics, as well as various sports and other assorted manly activities had led Castiel to what he now suspected were presumptuous conclusions about the man. He’d been expecting him to be gruff and aggressive, or possibly vain and full of himself, if the photograph on the headshot was an accurate depiction of him. Dean was, Castiel admitted without hesitation, a beautiful man, and in his experience it was often the most beautiful people who were disturbingly aware of the fact and played their looks to their advantage. After just a few minutes in Dean’s presence, Castiel had begun to wonder if Dean had ever bothered to look in a mirror before.

It had taken him two full minutes to admit that his initial assessment was entirely wrong. Then again, Castiel assumed that anyone reading his own resume might come to similarly misguided assumptions about himself. He’d quickly shut down that line of thinking, though, because he and Dean weren’t really similar at all. Dean was a rising star in the movie industry who had attracted the attention of a potentially dangerous fan, and Cas was just the angel sent to save him.

It didn’t matter how kind Dean had turned out to be, or that the stunning photograph Bela had sent him hadn’t done justice to the man in person. Dean’s close relationship with his brother had been surprising, since Sam hadn’t garnered a single mention in Dean’s file, but it left Cas feeling slightly melancholy that he didn’t have even one family member to look forward to visiting for the holidays, and he’d never really felt this strange sense of longing, this odd feeling that he might be missing out on something, before.

He pulled open the empty drawer he’d examined earlier and then opened his suitcase and began unpacking. There was no telling how long he’d be assigned to Dean, but the man had encouraged him to make himself at home. Cas wasn’t even sure what _home_ was supposed to feel like. He’d been living out of Seraphim’s office compound for more than two years. Angels had to be on call 24/7, after all, and his tiny living quarters there felt more like military barracks than anything resembling a proper home. Before that he’d had his college dorms and a long string of temporary residences. The contents of his single large suitcase comprised the sum total of his worldly possessions, and unloading them all into a single drawer and hanging up his extra suit in the otherwise empty closet didn’t go a long way toward making him feel _homey_.

Castiel set his running shoes down on the floor of the closet, then on a whim finally removed his trench coat and hung it up next to his suit. Next came his suit jacket and tie. It made the closet look a little fuller, like someone actually lived there and wasn’t just staying the night.

He wasn’t exactly sure what Dean meant by “comfy” clothes, since he was so used to wearing a suit he’d grown comfortable in it, but this was Dean’s home, and he wanted to honor his host’s request if he could. He had several sets of clothes he wore to exercise in, taking long runs whenever he had the time to do so, and decided he would put on a pair of sweats and a soft blue t-shirt, hoping that it would make Dean happy.

He was halfway through hanging up his dress slacks when the thought hit him. He froze there, hanger in one hand and pants in the other, and forcibly reminded himself that his job wasn’t to make Dean happy. His job was to keep him _safe_. No matter how enjoyable he’d found the notion of simply pleasing the man, bringing that radiant smile to his face. Or even better-- or worse, as the case may be-- the pink tinge in his cheeks when he became flustered. Castiel had found it charming and enticing, and he couldn’t let himself think of his charge that way, no matter how much he might wish he could. It was a ridiculous fantasy, and Castiel was nothing if not professional. He hung up the rest of his clothes, three starched white shirts and his second tie which was identical to the one he’d just removed, and then rummaged through his drawer for his _comfy_ clothes.

Once he was dressed he collected his small bag of toiletries and was just about to head to the bathroom to get them put away when he finally got a good look at the framed posters lining the walls of his room. At first glance he’d thought they depicted famous Hollywood and Broadway productions, but he grudgingly admitted to himself that he may have been a little distracted while he’d been the center of Dean’s attention. Now that he was alone, he noticed that every last one of them was from Dean’s own past. He’d carefully preserved and framed posters from dozens of productions going all the way back to elementary school. None of them depicted the movie or television roles he was becoming famous for, and most were from a small community theater in Lawrence, Kansas. Dean’s name was nearly always at the top, in the starring role.

Castiel wondered why the man had held himself back, playing critically acclaimed performances (if the posters were to be believed) year after year in Kansas rather than setting out for Hollywood the minute he’d graduated high school like so many others. And then he noticed the writing on one of the posters.

_Dean’s first starring role!_ That was the entire message, scrawled just above the edge of the frame in fading blue ballpoint ink. Cas was intrigued enough to look for similar messages on the other posters, and was able to find little notes on nearly every one. The most recent, though still nearly three years old, gave him the key to solving the mystery.

_Dean’s high school graduation present to me, so he said. His real present is giving himself a shot at his dream now that I finally convinced him he doesn’t have to keep giving up his own life to provide one for me._

Castiel let out a huge breath he’d been holding far too long and blinked at the words. Mystery solved. Dean had even told him this was his brother’s room, only used very occasionally when he wasn’t away at college. It hadn’t occurred to Cas that the decorations had been placed there by Sam, as well. It made sense now. The rest of the apartment, as far as he’d seen, had been comfortably decorated, but aside from a few family photographs that he hadn’t had a chance to get a close look at yet, it had been impersonal. Suddenly this little guest room felt almost _too_ personal.

Dean was definitely _nothing_ like the man he’d walked into Case and Talbot expecting to meet. Not only was he attractive and talented, thoughtful and kind, he’d also apparently put his career on hold to ensure that his brother had a stable home life throughout high school. Cas crossed the room and checked the date of the earliest Lawrence Community Theater poster, and yes. Four years of school, four years of small town theater productions. Now all the little messages made sense. They were Sam’s narrative of his hopes and dreams for his brother.

He was suddenly irrationally nervous about meeting this man in just over two days’ time. He was equally nervous about walking out into the living room to face Dean again. The so-called comfy clothes he’d donned suddenly felt far less comfy, and he almost changed back into his suit just to help remind himself of his job. It was his duty to protect Dean, not to fawn over the man. He was a professional, dammit.

Castiel took a deep breath, gathered his toiletries again and headed for the bathroom. He could do this. He’d just have to remember that Dean wasn’t really his friend, and this wasn’t supposed to be enjoyable, no matter how much of an intriguing mystery Dean had turned out to be.


	5. Chapter 5

Cas unpacked his toiletry kit in the bathroom, scoping out the stash of fluffy bath towels in the small cupboard and leaving his toothbrush in the cup by the sink. He splashed his face with cool water and took a few fortifying deep breaths to ground himself. It wouldn’t do to overstep his boundaries with his client when the man had just learned that he might be in danger. It would be taking liberties he had no business assuming, and could jeopardize both Dean’s safety and his own future employment with Seraphim.

With his personal feelings once again locked down tight, he ventured out to the living room. The television was on, but Dean was nowhere to be found. The only other door in the small apartment, the one that must lead to Dean’s own bedroom, was closed, so Cas assumed he must want his privacy. Rather than knock to check on him, Cas made himself comfortable on Dean’s sofa.

The movie playing on the tv was one Cas had heard of before, but never had the time to see for himself. His father had never bothered to have a television hooked up in their home. Cas had always been grateful enough the man had bothered to make sure the electricity stayed on. From what he could tell, he’d missed the first ten minutes or so, but it didn’t take long for Cas to catch on to the movie’s plot-- an archaeology professor trying to save the Ark of the Covenant from the Nazis. It was a surprisingly engaging film, and he quickly found himself engrossed.

Dean wandered out a few minutes later and startled him by sitting down beside him. He’d been so focused on the story that he hadn’t noticed Dean enter the room, which seemed to delight the man to no end.

“So you like Indy too, huh?” Dean asked, making himself comfortable.

“This movie? It’s very entertaining so far, yes.”

“So far? What? Don’t tell me you’ve never seen these before.”

Cas just shook his head and shrugged, returning his attention to the screen.

“How the hell do you reach adulthood without having seen Indiana Jones?”

“You grow up without a television,” Cas replied grumpily.

Dean’s joking manner softened immediately into something approaching pity, but there was nothing pitying in his voice when he eventually spoke again, much quieter as if he were talking to himself more than Cas.

“Well, then, at least I know we won’t be bored this weekend. You’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

By the end of the movie, they’d both opened up quite a bit. Cheering together over melting Nazis was apparently a bonding experience. With just a glance for confirmation, Dean held up the DVD of the sequel and Cas nodded, holding back a smile. They were halfway through Temple of Doom when Dean’s doorbell rang and Charlie let herself into the apartment.

“What’s up, bitches?” she asked, seemingly unsurprised to find a strange man in Dean’s apartment.

Cas realized that Dean must have called her to let her know they’d have additional company. Even still, he felt strangely appreciative to have been included in Charlie’s unconventional greeting. He’d never expected to feel all warm and fuzzy to be lumped in under the title of “bitches.”

Dean paused the movie and immediately got up to welcome Charlie with a warm hug, and Cas only had a moment to feel like he was intruding on their evening again before Dean pulled away to introduce him to his friend.

“Charlie, this is Cas. Cas, Charlie. She’s one of my oldest friends in this town.”

“Pfft, oldest.” She rolled her eyes at Dean and then proceeded to ignore his sputtering attempt to clarify that he’d only meant the length of their friendship.

Cas stood up and Charlie walked right up to him and gave him the same kind of hug she’d given Dean. It warmed him to his toes with the absolutely genuine welcome he felt from her.

“So you’re taking care of Dean for me,” she said, stepping back to regard him critically. For such a small person, she appeared incredibly fierce.

“Y-yes? That’s my job.” Cas replied, glancing at Dean uncertainly.

Charlie punched his shoulder. “Then I guess we just became best friends. Anyone who can put up with Dean is a friend of mine.”

“Hey,” Dean complained. “He’s not gettin’ paid to take abuse from you, Charles.”

“I don’t mind,” Cas replied, rubbing his shoulder and trying to figure out what exactly was going on. He caught Dean watching him with a funny little smile, which disappeared almost as quickly as he’d noticed it.

“The usual, I assume?” Dean held up his phone and the delivery menu from a local restaurant and waved it in Charlie’s face while she made herself comfortable on the couch.

“Sounds great,” Charlie replied, and then turned her attention to Cas. “So, tell me all about yourself.”

Cas stammered through an introduction, glancing occasionally at Dean. He felt oddly comforted by the fact that Dean showed just as much interest as Charlie in the answers to her seemingly endless string of questions. He eventually cut her off shortly after the pizza arrived.

“I didn’t mean to intrude on your evening together, and now I feel like I’ve taken over the entire occasion.”

Charlie laughed while Dean just grinned at him around a mouthful of pizza. “Cas, you’re the most interesting thing that’s happened to pizza night in a long time.”

Her use of Dean’s nickname still brought a strange bubbling feeling to his chest, but even more than that was the feeling he got from the way Dean nodded along in agreement, his mouth too full of pizza to agree verbally.

“We’ve been spending nights hanging out like this for longer than we both can remember,” Charlie confided. “The few times we tried to go out we always ended up on some Hollywood gossip page or other. It’s just not worth it. There’s only so many different ways to say _I am not dating my best friend because I am a lesbian_ when they all insist I’m secretly straight. It’s exhausting and pointless.”

This news came as a small surprise to Cas, but he took it in stride. All evening he’d been worried that he’d been intruding on their romantic night together when it had been nothing of the sort. Dean really hadn’t been making a huge personal sacrifice on his account. He hadn’t been lying about Charlie just being his friend. Cas found it both a relief and slightly disappointing, and he couldn’t exactly explain to himself why.

“I keep telling you you need to go on a few dates,” Dean told her. “You should take Dorothy up on that offer.”

Charlie pouted. “But we _worked_ together, Dean. Yeah, we got along great and everything, but I’d like to give it at least a month before we try anything serious, otherwise it’ll just get written up as some sort of meaningless on-set fling or whatever, and that’s almost worse than the gossip about you and me. We’re working up to it. Trust me, she’s on the same page.”

“Dorothy Baum?” Cas suddenly asked, and then immediately felt slightly uncomfortable about having mentioned one of Seraphim’s former clients. “I mean, I know of her through the unsettling business in the press last year.”

“Yeah,” Charlie said, taking a deep breath like she was relieved that Cas understood. “She’s worried about attracting another weird stalker after that whole incident. We both want to wait a little longer before making anything public yet.”

Cas nodded. He’d heard that Dorothy had been consulting with one of their other angels again recently, and he was oddly gratified to know that it was likely due to the delightful young woman he’d come to know over the course of the evening. “Well I wish both of you the best. You deserve to be happy.”

Charlie was so overcome she practically leaped around the table to tackle him in another hug. Cas caught Dean grinning like a dope at his friend before he called her off again.

“Hey, what’d I tell ya about assaulting my bodyguard?”

And just as soon as the warm feelings had welled up inside him again, they were flushed out with another cold reminder of who he was supposed to be to these people. Not friend, not associate, just _bodyguard_.

He tried not to let that dampen his mood. It was certainly nice enough to be included in the evening’s activities and to be made to feel so welcome, but it was getting harder and harder to remember his job came first and that everything else was just a bonus because Dean was simply a genuinely kind man. Cas would need to redouble his efforts to remain appreciative of that fact without overstepping his boundaries. It wouldn’t do at all to make his client feel uncomfortable because he couldn’t control his own feelings.

After dinner, when Dean offered to continue watching the movie he’d paused when Charlie arrived, Castiel politely declined and excused himself to his room. He’d intruded on Dean’s time with his friend far too long, despite both of their well-intentioned protestations. He was surprised when not fifteen minutes later he heard Charlie and Dean wish each other goodnight and Merry Christmas. A few minutes after that, the entire apartment had gone dark and quiet.

He hadn’t meant to break up their evening, but apparently his departure had had that effect anyway. He wasn’t sure whether he’d done something wrong, and spent the rest of the night in a fitful sleep plagued with unsettling dreams that he’d somehow failed to protect Dean.

 

☆☆☆

 

Dean had texted Charlie first, as soon as he’d reached the privacy of his own room after showing Cas to Sam’s.

>> _plans changed, we’ve got a third wheel tonight_

<< _ooh, i guess it’s not a date then or you’d sound more excited about it. what’s up?_

Dean laughed at Charlie’s reply and figured it would be quicker to explain everything over the phone than via text. Five minutes later she had the whole story and couldn’t wait to meet Dean’s personal secret agent angel man. Her words, not Dean’s.

His next call was to Sam. He was still sprawled out over his comfortable memory foam when Sam gave him his first brutal reminder of why Sam normally came to visit _him_ , and not the other way around.

“He’s welcome to stay here, Dean, but you do know that we’ve only got the pullout couch in the office, right? You can’t make him sleep on the floor all week.”

Dean groaned, rolling onto his side so he could stifle the noise in one of his squishy pillows. “Don’t fucking remind me. You still got that inflatable camp mattress?”

Sam hesitated for a second before warily replying, “Yeah…”

There was a long pause before Dean sighed. “Fine, then I’ll sleep on that. It’s only for a week.”

Sam snorted, and Dean could picture the idiotic smirk on his brother’s face. “You must really like this guy.”

“Dude, he’s been hired to keep some whackjob from ganking me. It’s not like he wants to be here. Least I can do is make him not hate it entirely. He’s already gotta spend Christmas with a bunch of complete strangers.”

“Fine, whatever you say, Dean,” Sam said, backing off his teasing entirely. “You have a point. I promise not to make it worse for the guy than it already is.”

“Thanks,” Dean replied.

“Don’t thank me yet. Jess wants to bake you a pie.”

Dean perked up at that. “Should I just thank her directly then?”

Sam laughed ominously. “Dude, she’s never baked a damn thing in her life. She can do the whole turkey dinner, no problem, but you get to experience her very first pie.”

Dean groaned again and immediately offered to bake an emergency backup pie, just in case. He could do his part to save Christmas. Hell, if Jess’s pie turned out fine, that would just mean they had _two_ pies, and that was never a bad thing.

Their conversation ended a few minutes later, but Dean stayed in his room quietly enjoying the comfort of his own bed. He’d nearly forgotten about Cas across the hall in Sam’s room until he’d heard the man bustling around in the guest bathroom out in the hall. He was torn between checking on Cas like a good host to make sure his guest had everything he needed and just hiding out in his room as long as possible.

Sure he’d told Cas to make himself at home, but he wasn’t entirely certain if the man would actually ask for anything he might need from him. He’d seemed so awkwardly reserved, despite the few small moments when Dean had been able to raise any sort of reaction from him at all. Each time he’d seen the guy _almost_ smile it had felt like a small victory. Dean had to keep himself from pushing at the guy to see if he was even capable of actually grinning, let alone laughing. Cas was there to keep the looneys away, not to indulge Dean’s persistent curiosity about how attractive his laugh might sound.

Dean quietly slipped out to the living room, turned on the television and popped in the first DVD he laid his hand on. Indiana Jones. It seemed safe enough. Cas was supposed to be some kind of badass, so he probably wouldn’t hate Indy. At least Dean figured it would distract Cas long enough for him to get his thoughts under control again.

Once the movie started, he dashed back to his room and silently shut the door. He changed into his most comfortable and worn old jeans and a soft grey henley, and then stared around his perfectly ordered room. There wasn’t anything more to distract himself with in there, short of reorganizing his sock drawer or alphabetizing all his band t-shirts. But he still wasn’t ready to face Cas again yet, and he recognized that he only had one final retreat.

Safely locked inside his own bathroom, he stared at himself in the mirror until he was sure his face wasn’t about to betray his unfortunate attraction to the angel who’d been hired to protect him. After a quick splash of water and another five minute pep talk to his reflection, he was forced to admit to himself that he was being a coward. This shouldn’t have been a big deal. Cas was only gonna be here for a week or two, tops, and then he’d be off to guard someone else. The least Dean could do while Cas was here was to treat him like the professional he was.

When he’d finally screwed up his courage, Dean headed out to the living room. He’d only missed the first few scenes of the movie, but he could practically reenact the entire thing by heart anyway. All his carefully rationalized concerns about keeping a professional distance between him and Cas melted away in the shock of learning that Cas had never seen Indiana Jones. It gave him a perfectly reasonable excuse for any overly-forward behavior that might slip out accidentally. Hey, who _wouldn’t_ be a little excited about introducing someone to the awesomeness that is Dr. Jones?

It didn’t hurt that Cas picked up his enthusiasm without any prompting from Dean. Dean suggested they start the movie back at the beginning and soon they both found themselves entirely engrossed in the film; both of them commenting occasionally and talking back to the characters on screen.

Several times during the film Dean caught Cas watching him instead, almost smiling again at Dean’s antics. Cas also caught Dean watching _him_ , nearly every time Cas made some insightful comment or little joke at one of the characters’ expense. Dean wasn’t entirely sure Cas was trying to be funny, but he didn’t care. The dude was quietly hilarious, in Dean’s estimation.

When the closing credits rolled, Dean sat forward on the couch and turned to Cas.

“So? What’d you think, Ebert?”

Cas looked momentarily confused, but then smiled-- the first real smile that Dean had seen from him, and his stomach did a little flipflop at the sight.

“I enjoyed that very much. Thank you, Dean.”

Dean swallowed hard in a sad attempt to punch his fluttering insides into submission. “Yeah. You know, there’s three more of them.”

Without another word, Dean got up to swap out the DVD and start up Temple of Doom. When Charlie arrived about an hour later, Dean paused the movie. He and Cas had been having a grand old time pointing out all the ways that it didn’t live up to the original, and Dean had assumed Cas would enjoy finishing it after Charlie’s visit.

Dean was again delighted that Charlie and Cas seemed to get along so well. Then again, Charlie was naturally easy to get along with. She had a way of bringing people out of their shell through sheer enthusiasm, and it seemed to work like a charm on Cas. Throughout dinner all three of them shared a pared down version of their life stories and Charlie declared they should start a club.

“Orphans who made it in Hollywood anyway,” she declared.

“I wouldn’t say that I fit that description,” Cas demurred. “The two of you are becoming household names, and I wouldn’t be very effective at my job if that were the case for me.”

“It’s okay,” Charlie said, reaching out to lay a hand on Cas’s shoulder. “You’ve still made it in our book. And you’re hanging out with a couple of almost A-listers in our jammies! Not a lot of people can say that.”

And there it was, Cas actually laughed. Sort of. Dean counted it as a laugh anyway, even if it was more of an indelicate little snort. It was a start.

It was also the start of Dean’s renewed effort to keep Cas at arm’s length. It was getting harder and harder to do, the more he learned about him. The guy’s childhood had been just about as fucked up as Dean’s was. If it hadn’t been for Sammy, Dean’s not sure he could’ve coped with that shit half as well as Cas seemed to, but Cas had had to face it all on his own. He might not really be the guy’s friend, but Dean decided he’d do his best to be _a friend_ , at least as much as he could without overstepping his boundaries.

At the very least, Dean figured the guy deserved to experience a nice family Christmas, even if it was with someone else’s family. And even if Dean’s family was about as tiny and untraditional as they come, it was still more of a family than Cas had ever known. What was the harm in trying to make Cas feel welcome? It was Christmas, after all, and that’s probably what Tiny Tim would want him to do, or something like that.

Around ten o'clock, shortly after they’d finished eating, Cas announced that he was going to bed, begging off their insistence that he was welcome to hang out as long as he wanted.

“It’s been a long day,” he said, rather stiffly after how much progress they’d seemed to have made over dinner. “I’d like to make sure I’m rested to ensure I’m prepared for anything you wish to do tomorrow.”

Cas gave them an awkward little nod and then slipped down the hall and into the bathroom. The minute he was gone, Dean shot Charlie a helpless look, and she just shrugged.

“Did I say something wrong?” Dean asked quietly when he heard the sink running. “I think I pissed him off. What the fuck, I thought we were all getting along?”

“I don’t know. He seemed fine most of the night. Maybe he really is tired. It’s a big job watching your ass all day.”

“Shit,” Dean replied, resting his forehead in his hands. “I know he’s getting paid to be here, and here I am practically forcing his life story out of him like he was a friend.”

The water shut off, and then they heard Cas step into his bedroom and shut the door. Charlie leaned over to wrap an arm around Dean’s shoulders.

“He didn’t actually have to share anything with us. It’s not like we sat him in a comfy chair and poked him with soft cushions until he talked about himself.”

“Yeah, but maybe he feels like he fucked up anyway. Shit. I gotta stop trying to push his buttons. It’s just too much fun. I actually sorta like the guy, you know?”

Charlie just nodded and kept rubbing one hand along Dean’s back like she was soothing a frightened puppy.

“I keep forgetting he’s only here because some asshat sent me a creepy letter. I don’t even know how long he’s gonna be around. Could be a couple days, or maybe a couple weeks. He’ll probably be gone before I even go back to set. This is just another job to him. _I’m_ just another job to him.”

“Oh, Dean. You’re not just a job to anyone. You’re just a good guy, and I know what you’re trying to do.”

“Yeah?” Dean asked, sitting up straighter and pulling out of Charlie’s grasp so he could glare at her. “What am I trying to do?”

“You’re trying to make a guy who’s never had a family feel at home with yours. It’s sweet.”

Dean tried to glare harder, but it was impossible to do with Charlie looking at him like that, like he’d invented marshmallows or some shit. “Yeah, you’re right. But it’s not working. I don’t wanna interfere with him doing the job he’s been paid to do, either. This whole situation is just so fucked up.”

“That’s what Dorothy keeps telling me. It was pretty scary there for a while, but that worked itself out. They’ll figure out what’s up with your number one fan and everything will go back to normal soon enough.”

Charlie probably thought that would be comforting, but it really only added to Dean’s distress. He hadn’t been upset about the letters, or even about the pushy woman who’d accosted him on the street. He was far more upset that as soon as his _number one fan_ went away, so would Cas. And wasn’t that just a kick in the head.

She noticed that her words seemed to have the opposite effect on him than the one she’d intended, and that’s when the realization hit. She leaned in real close and spoke quietly right into Dean’s ear so there was no way Cas could overhear her.

“Oh. Oh god, Dean. You _like_ like him, don’t you. You want him to stick around, and not just because it’s his job.”

The miserable look Dean gave her before he dropped his head back into his hands confirmed her suspicions.

“That’s why you keep calling him your bodyguard and bringing up his job. That’s your tell. You have a feeling and instead of just being normal about it, you’ve got to stomp it into the ground.”

“Shut up, Charlie,” Dean said without looking up.

“You know, now that you mention it, he seemed pretty happy until you opened your yap and reminded him of his job again.”

“Yeah, probably because he’s pissed at himself for slacking off. You heard his life story. He’s one intense sonofabitch.”

Charlie sighed. “Maybe you’re right. But you might at least consider not throwing that back in his face every time the dude starts to let his guard down around you. Maybe just let all that go and see what happens. It couldn’t hurt.”

Dean finally looked back up at her, one eyebrow raised and a look of absolute disbelief on his face. “Let his guard down. You think I should encourage that. In a bodyguard.”

“Well, it’s not like you’ve got ninja assassins crawling in through the windows. I think it’s safe to let his guard down in your living room. And probably while you’re up at Sam’s, too. Just try not to be an asshole and ruin everything.”

“There’s nothing to ruin, Charlie.”

Charlie just shrugged and patted Dean on the shoulder before getting up to retrieve the present she bought him.

She left about ten minutes later, giving Dean a stern reminder to treat Cas like a person first, and like an employee second.

“He doesn’t have to be on the job when you’re just hanging around the house, you know. Cut the guy some slack. He’s a human being, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it, okay?”

“Good,” she said, and gave him one last hug. “I’ll see you when you get back. Say Merry Christmas to Sam and Jess for me.”

“Will do.”

Dean cleaned up the dining room and put their dishes in the dishwasher, puttered around the kitchen for a couple of minutes, and then began shutting off lights. If Cas didn’t want to hang out with him, that was fine. Maybe the dude really was tired, or maybe Charlie was right. Either way, he’d probably already blown any chance he’d had to be the guy’s friend by unintentionally being a dick, however real any sort of friendship between them could’ve been.

He stopped in front of the television, waking it up from the DVD player’s screensaver. Dean considered ejecting the disk and filing it away on the shelf, but instead he just turned it off with a sigh. He’d give it one more chance in the morning. They didn’t have to leave the house again until Saturday morning, and he’d promised Charlie he’d at least try and relax, if not for his own sake then for Castiel’s.

Guarding him might be Cas’s job, but Dean could at least try to make sure he didn’t have to be reminded about that fact 24/7. Everyone deserved a little time off to just kick back. Even angels.

With that in mind, Dean shuffled past Cas’s closed door, wishing him a mumbled goodnight on his way to bed. For the first time since he’d splurged on his new memory foam mattress, Dean spent a very restless night, tossing and turning between fragmented, disturbing dreams of angel wings and hellfire.


	6. Chapter 6

Friday morning Dean tried to wash away the unsettling nightmares in the shower. His muscles loosened up under the pounding spray and his mind wandered enough off topic to finish the job with a quick jerk. He only felt a little bit awkward after coming to the thought of Cas’s hands on him and that voice rumbling dirty endearments in his ear. He rinsed off and sternly reminded himself that he was going to do his best to be a friend to the dude; not try and seduce him.

They weren’t planning to leave the apartment all day, so Dean dressed in sweats and an old Black Sabbath t-shirt. He couldn’t reasonably spend half the day locked in his room, though. So with one last reminder to relax and just be his nicest, most non-dickish self, he took a deep breath and opened the door, and was immediately assaulted by the glorious aroma of freshly brewed coffee. He followed his nose to the kitchen and found Cas standing at the counter, his hair disheveled from sleep and still wearing the sweats he’d worn the previous evening. He wasn’t even doing anything all that interesting, just standing there looking over Dean’s small collection of cookbooks and sipping a cup of coffee.

Dean froze in the doorway for a second, transfixed by the bizarrely domestic scene. He berated himself for even thinking that it was a sight he’d gladly wake up to more often, and he found himself having to crush down the memory of his earlier shower fantasies. _Cas does not look good in my kitchen first thing in the morning, all scruffy and rumpled and... dammit_. Right then Cas turned and saw him, blushing as he returned the book he’d been paging through to the shelf and backing away in apology.

“Hello, Dean. I didn’t mean to take liberties, but I didn’t want to wake you. I hope you don’t mind that I started a pot of coffee?”

Dean choked out a startled laugh and walked straight over to the coffee maker, which blessedly gave him an excuse to turn his back to Cas until he could force his face to cooperate again.

“They said you were an angel, but I didn’t believe it until just now. The angel of caffeine.”

Dean poured himself a cup and then turned to see Cas sitting at the small table, almost-smiling up at him. It was almost more than he could take in his present state, so he busied himself pulling out the ingredients to make pancakes.

“What? What’s so funny? And do you want pancakes?”

“Yes, thank you. That sounds lovely. But I’m not the angel of caffeine. I’m the angel of Thursday.”

At that, Dean nearly fumbled the egg he’d been cracking into a mixing bowl and shot Cas an incredulous look over his shoulder. The other man’s smile widened at Dean’s reaction.

“Or I’m named for him, at any rate. Castiel, the angel of Thursday.”

“Huh,” Dean replied after a moment. “Guess you fell into the right line of work, anyway. Like a podiatrist named Dr. Foot, or a guitar player named Joe Strummer.”

“Joe Strummer was the stage name of John Graham Mellor.”

Dean shrugged. “Still, it’s appropriate. At least you got the Clash reference, even if you never watched Indiana Jones. You up for finishing Temple of Doom over breakfast?”

“I’m very pop culture savvy,” Cas replied dryly. “And I’d love to.”

They ended up eating pancakes one at a time straight off the griddle, standing together at the stove discussing just how pop culture savvy Cas really was. Dean was astonished by the breadth of Castiel’s knowledge, at first, until he realized that most of that knowledge was second-hand. Turned out Cas had made a study of pop culture without actually experiencing very much of it for himself.

“Dude!” Dean said, pointing accusingly at Cas with a rolled up pancake while flipping another cake on the griddle with his other hand. “Just because you can name all the actors in Die Hard or the Princess Bride and rattle off a few quotes isn’t the same as actually watching the movies.”

Cas shrugged and took another bite of his pancake.

“No, really. How could you spend so much time reading about this stuff without thinking _hey, that sounds like a decent flick. Maybe I should watch it and see what all the fuss is about?_ ”

Dean just couldn’t wrap his head around it. From the first film he’d ever seen, he’d been fascinated. When he'd first recognized an actor he’d seen in something else, playing an entirely new character in an entirely different setting, he’d been hooked. He’d known exactly what he wanted to do with his life from that moment on. On stage, on tv, on film-- he could be _anyone_. He could be _everyone_.

And then there was Cas, who’d come at the same mediums but from an entirely different perspective. While Dean had studied the characters themselves and devoted his life to interpreting them for a living, Castiel had studied the people portraying those characters and devoted his life to protecting them.

Cas stared at Dean, watching him flip the pancake off the griddle and onto a plate before ladling another scoop of batter onto the pan. When Dean glanced back up at him, Cas looked pained, like he was trying to find the gentlest way to deliver terrible news.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Dean said, reaching out to pat Cas on the shoulder. He wasn’t sure why he’d felt the need to apologize, but Cas took a deep breath and nodded, his expression clearing a bit.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, Dean. I didn’t often have access to a television or a movie theater growing up. My father never really had time for entertainment, and moving around as much as we did, I never got much of a chance to develop friendships with other children. Nobody wants to invite the strange new kid over to hang out. But I always had the library. If I couldn’t watch tv, I could read about it. It helped, sometimes, if I understood their references. And I think that pancake is burning.”

“Oh shit.” Dean scrambled to flip over the slightly charred pancake. And damn, the more he learned about Cas, the more he just wanted to pull the man into a hug and not let go for like a week.  “Well, that settles it. As long as you’re staying with me, I’m making it my mission to show you as much as we can cram in. We need to make a list.”

Dean grabbed a notepad he used to make grocery lists and patted himself on the back for not mentioning that Cas was only staying with him because it was his job. This was more than perfect. Dean could introduce Cas to what he loved so much about acting through his favorite shows and movies, and Cas could maybe experience a few of those small pleasures he’d been denied his whole life, up to and including hanging out with a friend.

Dean only hoped he’d be able to draw the line at _friend_.

 

☆☆☆

 

Cas had tossed and turned most of the night, unable to feel fully at ease with his thoughts. He’d never had this much trouble doing his job before. Then again this was his first assignment in the field, but even the numerous celebrities he’d consulted for at Seraphim hadn’t left him with all of these doubts that he couldn’t explain away. If only he could pinpoint their source.

It’s true that Dean was an attractive man, but Cas had dealt with numerous attractive people before and not become this confused about how he should react to them. That was the nature of working in Hollywood. Not only that, but Dean seemed like a genuinely good person, especially after the revelation brought on by the posters in Sam’s room. There wasn’t anything inherently confusing about that. Dean was an admirably kind and genuine man. He’d made sacrifices to help his brother, and in the often tumultuous social world of Hollywood, he’d made some impressive and equally delightful friends, like Charlie.

So why did he feel Dean’s persistent reminders that Cas was only there as his bodyguard-- because it literally _was_ his job to protect Dean-- with such an acute pain? Dean’s words hadn’t been untruthful, so why had they felt so hurtful?

They’d been relaxing, sharing personal stories, and Castiel had talked openly about parts of his past that he’d rarely shared with anyone. For some reason he’d felt safe with Dean, safe enough to feel comfortable discussing his personal history with the man so freely. He’d felt like Dean had truly been interested, and something about the way Dean watched him, the smile almost always lighting his warm green eyes even when he was trying to school his features into a more stoic expression, that Cas couldn’t help but feel drawn to.

If they’d met under any other circumstances, perhaps… _no, there isn’t any point thinking that way_. He found himself having to deliver that harsh reminder all too frequently while lying there and letting his thoughts wander, and eventually he dragged himself out of bed in a fit of frustration. There had to be something more he could learn about the vexing man he’d been assigned to protect. He wasn’t sure what he hoped to discover that hadn’t been included in the meager file he’d been given before meeting Dean, or shared openly with him over dinner the previous night, but for his own sake he needed to learn _something_ more. Was Dean putting on an act with him, appearing friendly while secretly harboring a resentment for the unexpected intrusion into his life? Or did he simply need to keep reminding himself that Cas was only a temporary fixture, not technically even a friend? It was too much to hope for, but he couldn’t abide the notion that Dean had been completely disingenuous with him the entire evening.

He’d really thought that Dean had been enjoying his company, that they’d been having a pleasant time watching movies together and just “hanging out,” as Charlie had put it. He didn’t have a lot of experience with friendships, but he was certain that Dean hadn’t been putting on an act that entire time. Dean had seemed excited about showing Cas what a real family Christmas was like, and Cas had initially been hesitant himself about how that would affect his ability to perform his duty to protect Dean from the nebulous threat leveled against him. Cas was confident in his skills, though. He wouldn’t let Dean’s enthusiasm for showing him a good time stand in the way of his job, no matter how distracting Dean had proven to be so far.

Maybe Dean wasn’t convinced of Cas’s abilities, though. Maybe he’d felt uncomfortable at the thought that the only person standing between him and those vile threats had behaved in an unprofessional manner. Maybe it was best if Cas just did his job, learned as much as he could about his client-- because yes, Dean was still his client-- and stuck to what he did best. That was, if Dean would allow it.

Cas shuffled out into the quiet living room, now returned to the orderly state he’d first seen it in. Without an audience, he finally took the liberty of looking around a bit more, all in the name of learning everything he could about Dean. His client. Very professionally.

Several bookshelves off to one side of the room were stuffed with books, manuscripts, and what could only be souvenirs taken from movie and television sets. Strange little paperweights, several model cars, a coffee cup filled with pens emblazoned with the logos of half a dozen tv shows that were listed in Dean’s dossier.

The books themselves were all well-read, older copies of everything from classics of literature, history, and mythology to modern pulp novels, and everything in between. It was impossible to tell anything about the man from the vast variety of reading material he seemed to enjoy, other than that he must be open-minded and curious, reading both for entertainment and for the sheer love of learning.

Cas moved on to the cabinets surrounding the large television. It had seemed extravagant at first, to devote so much space and pride of place to a gigantic television set, until he’d reminded himself that to Dean, this was one of the tools of his trade. These shelves were stuffed with movies and television series. He was surprised to notice the case for the movie they’d started watching the night before was still right where he’d last seen it, sitting out on the coffee table in front of the couch as if Dean fully intended to pick right up where they’d left off, even after the events that had led to Cas turning in early.

He set the empty case back down, feeling a strange sense of relief at its presence. Cas hadn’t been misinterpreting Dean’s kindness. If he’d seriously meant the things he’d implied about Cas not being able to do his job, Dean surely would’ve put the DVD back in its place while thoroughly tidying up the rest of the room after Cas had gone to bed.

Castiel continued his examination of the remaining shelves, which mostly contained framed photographs. Some of them were very old, faded and worn but still displayed in a place of honor. There were a few of a very young Dean with people Cas assumed must be his mother and father, and a baby he realized must be Dean's brother, Sam. There were several that included the car Dean had driven them here in yesterday, a monstrous old black sedan that Dean was inordinately fond of, and now Cas was beginning to understand why. It seemed to have been a constant fixture in Dean’s life since he’d been a small child. Castiel couldn’t even imagine such a thing, and spent a dazed few moments wondering what that kind of consistency and stability must be like.

There were pictures of an older Dean with a giant of a man who could only be Sam, now a grown man; pictures with Sam in a graduation cap and gown and Dean practically radiating pride at his brother, and a few with Dean in costume for some stage production or other and Sam looking just as proud as Dean had at his own achievements.

One last picture must’ve been taken only weeks earlier, likely at a cast wrap party for the film Dean had just finished. Cas recognized many of the faces in the group portrait from the list of actors and actresses Dean had been associating with since the threatening messages began. All of these smiling people had worked on the same film, but for some reason Dean had been singled out among them by his stalker. And Cas was having a hard time blaming them for their choice. Even in the large group photo full of beautiful people, Dean stood out.

Amid his revery, he vaguely heard the pipes rattle followed by the sound of running water. Dean was evidently awake and showering. Cas assumed that meant Dean would be up and about sooner rather than later, and drew an end to his covert investigation into his charge.

Cas yawned and set the picture back where he’d found it, and then headed out to the kitchen in search of something with caffeine in it. Dean had said he didn’t have any plans to go out during the day, but Castiel still scolded himself for letting everything get to him so badly that he’d been unable to sleep properly. He was supposed to be alert enough to carry out his duties, and he’d let his own runaway imagination compromise his ability to do that effectively. Caffeine was definitely in order.

Castiel rummaged through the cupboards, quickly finding Dean’s stash of coffee on a shelf stacked with dozens of coffee mugs of every description. One looked to have been made by hand, a lumpy thing painted bright green that practically screamed _elementary school art project_. Many of the rest had humorous comics or sayings painted on them, and Cas chose one at random and set it out on the counter. He distracted himself while waiting for the coffee to brew by looking over the single shelf of cookbooks at the end of the counter.

Just like the shelves in the living room, these books were well used. Maybe even more so than the others. The coffeemaker beeped and Cas absently poured himself a cup while he pulled out one of the more dog-eared volumes. He paged through it while he sipped, stunned that nearly every recipe had some sort of personal notation written in the margins. Ingredients were scratched out and replaced by others, quantities of seasonings were adjusted, and sometimes entire recipes were rewritten. Some recipes were crossed out altogether, with a notation as to the reason. _Not worth the effort,_ or _Sam likes the other version better._ Cas found himself laughing at one whole section of the book crossed out with the emphatic note _Who even likes beets? Ugh._

He was so distracted he almost didn’t notice Dean enter the kitchen, and fumbled the book back into its place on the shelf while trying to seem casually disinterested. Dean didn’t seem angry with him for snooping though, and set about making breakfast like it was perfectly normal for Cas to be there.  Like he might even be glad that Cas was there.

Of course it was easy at first to dismiss Dean's more relaxed demeanor as the logical relief that someone was actively guarding him against the threat on his personal safety, but Dean never once brought up Castiel’s job all through breakfast. And breakfast itself was one of the more unconventional that Cas had ever experienced.

“Do you normally eat like this?” Cas asked when Dean invited him to the counter to partake of the first pancake off the griddle.

“What, pancakes for breakfast?” Dean asked, flipping another pancake while Cas juggled the first until it was cool enough to eat.

“Pancakes straight out of the pan, standing at the stove, without butter or syrup or even a plate?”

Dean laughed, still focused on his task, but Cas forgot to chew for a second, momentarily stunned by the way Dean seemed to light up from the inside when he laughed. Relaxed and happy was an excellent look on Dean.

“Dude, did you even taste that pancake?” Dean said, pointing with his spatula at the rolled up cake in Cas’s hand. “Does that need butter or syrup?”

Cas looked down at it, took another bite and shrugged. “It is delicious.”

“Damn right it is. Hot out of the pan is the best way to eat ‘em. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Just being around Dean like this, with nothing that required either of their attention, set Cas at ease again. They talked about anything and everything, from Cas’s gentle inquiries about Dean’s apparent love of cooking, to Cas’s confession that his greatest culinary achievement was not burning a microwave burrito.

“So you’re about on Sam’s level,” Dean joked. “Don’t worry, his girlfriend’s making Christmas dinner.”

And from there the conversation turned back to their personal lives, and Cas’s glaring lack of one. He strangely didn’t get any sense of pity from Dean about this, more like Dean took it as some sort of personal challenge to fill that void in Castiel's life while he had the chance. And it all started with a list.

Dean shoved a notepad and pen at Cas and began reciting a list of films that he insisted Cas needed to see, and Cas dutifully recorded them while they finished their strange little breakfast.

Their first order of business was to finish the Indiana Jones movies, after which Dean scrutinized the list for a minute before a strange look crossed his face and he put on the Wizard of Oz. It hadn’t even been on their list, which Cas mentioned while Dean was swapping out the disc.

“It’s a classic, and I haven’t seen it in a while, either.” Dean stood there awkwardly for a few seconds while the DVD intro menu played on screen. “I think we need some popcorn or something.”

“We just ate lunch an hour ago,” Cas said, watching Dean practically run to the kitchen.

“Yeah, well, movies and popcorn sort of go together,” Dean called out over the sounds of rustling plastic and the familiar beeping of a microwave.

Cas just sat on the couch for the two and a half minutes listening to the orchestra play a looping rendition of Somewhere Over the Rainbow accompanied by the popping and whirring from the kitchen, and what sounded a little bit like Dean’s stocking feet pacing back and forth while he occasionally mumbled something to himself that, try as he might, Cas couldn’t quite make out. After having spent most of the day enjoying Dean’s company, all his early morning concerns came flooding back. He’d let himself forget why he was really there, and remembering now just made it that much worse.

It had been all too easy to fall into Dean’s orbit, to enjoy the casual, unguarded atmosphere that seemed to naturally radiate from Dean, like some sort of friendship forcefield that surrounded the man. Castiel hadn’t even put up a token resistance. It was genuinely surprising every time Dean laughed at something he said, and Cas had found it rather intoxicating, this strange new feeling that anyone appreciated his company. That it was _Dean_ , and not just anyone else, had been the cherry on top of the sundae. Who could resist slipping into that kind of warmth and camaraderie with someone as magnetic as Dean?

It was a harrowing two and a half minutes, but by the time Dean returned with a large bowl of popcorn and a couple of beers, Castiel had thoroughly admonished himself for taking advantage of Dean’s kindly intended hospitality. When Dean set the bowl between them on the couch, it was just one more reminder that maybe they had even been sitting too physically close for Dean’s comfort. Cas accepted the beer Dean offered him with a nod, a little disappointed at the entire situation. Disappointed that Dean had felt the need to draw a physical line between them, but also disappointed in himself that Dean had been uncomfortable enough to consider it a necessity to demarcate their personal space, even if said demarcation took the form of a shared popcorn bowl.

It had only been twenty four hours and they hadn’t even left the house, but guarding Dean was already proving to be the most difficult assignment he’d ever been given.


	7. Chapter 7

By the time the credits rolled on Crystal Skull, Dean knew he was in trouble.  He and Cas had both somehow migrated toward the center of the couch, and if they got any closer they’d end up climbing into each others’ laps. Dean had been both perversely glad that it hadn’t seemed to bother Cas in the least, but also disgusted with himself. Even if Cas had been a fifty percent participant in the migration and he hadn’t complained nor tried to slide away. But Cas had also admitted several times that he’d never really had this sort of experience before. Just hanging out with a friend and watching a few movies was as strange and unusual an experience for him as a picnic on the moon. For all Dean knew, Cas probably didn’t even understand what the hell was going on here. He was terrified that maybe he’d been taking advantage of Cas’s deficient social skills and the feeling was eating away at him every time Cas’s shoulder brushed against his or Cas patted his thigh to get his attention before laying out his thoughts on a particular scene.

As soon as the film ended Dean knew he needed to pick something drastically different to watch. His first thoughts flew to the Princess Bride, but he bit down on his lip to stifle the burst of hysterical laughter trying to force it’s way out of him and picked out the first movie he saw with absolutely no romantic subplot. Wizard of Oz it was.

He’d already set the disc in the tray when Cas began questioning him on why he chose something that wasn’t even on their list, so it was too late to back out of watching it at that point. He glared down at the happy group of misfits skipping arm in arm under a cheerful rainbow on the cover of the box. If that just didn’t fucking say it all. He choked back another burst of laughter and made some lame excuse about it being a classic before fleeing to the kitchen with the even lamer excuse that they needed popcorn.

God he was being an asshole without even trying. Never in his life had Dean ever taken advantage of someone, but Cas was different. Sure he’d seemed just as into Dean as Dean was into him, but after hearing Cas’s life story he wasn’t sure if Cas even understood what that meant. Maybe he’d simply been mimicking Dean’s behavior and assuming it was just how friends were supposed to be.

He tore open the packet of popcorn and jammed it into the microwave, pacing manically back and forth in a sad attempt to shake off the prickling energy he’d let grow for far too long while sitting next to Cas. Dean caught himself muttering under his breath trying to puzzle out who’d crossed which barrier first. Had Cas slipped into his space, had Dean been the first one to let a touch linger a second or two too long, or had it been a mutual sort of thing all the way down the line? He just couldn’t remember, and that scared him a little bit.

Dean reached into the fridge for a beer, downing a couple of gulps in front of the open fridge door before grabbing a second one for Cas and then dumping the popcorn into one large bowl. It would be easy enough to keep his distance with his hands occupied, and a foot of space and a small mountain of popcorn between them. It wasn’t the best solution to his current dilemma, but it would do as a stopgap measure to give him time to reassess his Befriend Castiel For His Own Good plan.

It might’ve been a trick of his imagination, but it seemed like Cas had moved back toward his own end of the couch by the time Dean returned with the bowl, and he tried not to feel a little disappointed about that fact when he handed over Cas’s beer. Dean just flopped back down into his spot and set the bowl next to him, _between_ them, and reached for the clicker to start the movie. He was committed now, so he might as well make the best of it.

By all accounts, Cas was delighted by the film. There were only a few minor almost-holding-hands-in-the-popcorn-bowl moments to distract Dean from the action on screen. Every time their hands inadvertently touched, Dean felt the same sense of possibility before violently squishing down that hope, because Cas _couldn’t_ be doing this to him on purpose. There was just no way. Dean rationalized the gentle brush of Cas’s fingers across his own as an absent-minded gesture because of course he was just engrossed in the movie and not paying attention to what he was doing.

When Dorothy and her friends set out into the spooky haunted forest, Cas finally slid the empty bowl onto the coffee table. He leaned back against the couch a measurably closer distance to Dean. Despite the horde of flying monkeys descending on Dorothy and her friends on screen, Dean couldn’t take his eyes from Cas, now casually reclining toward him, resting on one elbow. He swallowed hard and pasted on what he hoped looked like a hearty smile when Cas glanced up at him, and quickly turned his eyes back to the movie just in time to see Dorothy snatched up and dragged off into the sky.

The things that happen when you’re not looking.

Dean groaned quietly and resigned himself to his fate. This was not something he could have, but there was no point trying to pretend that it was something he didn’t want. He was officially screwed.

 

☆☆☆

 

It didn’t take Cas long to figure out that Dean had definitely intended the popcorn as a physical barrier between them, but that it had nothing to do with Dean being uncomfortable by his proximity. Well, not in a bad way, at least.

Even with the Great Wall of Popcorn between them, Dean still leaned across to mutter interesting facts about the production of the film and offhand comments about the characters and dialogue. Several times they found their hands idly resting next to each other in the bowl, too transfixed by the story to notice and not at all bothered by the fact when they finally did.

He could blame it on the beer if Dean complained, but he was pretty sure that Dean wouldn’t, so Cas let himself be a little bit daring. The next time he reached for a handful of popcorn he let his fingers linger over Dean’s, dragging his fingertips slowly across Dean’s knuckles. He didn’t dare take his eyes off the screen, afraid to see any sort of rejection in Dean’s eyes firsthand. When Dean made no move to push him away, some of the tension he’d been holding on to all day finally let go. A few minutes later he moved the pretense of the empty bowl to the coffee table and made himself comfortable, leaning into Dean’s space a little bit more, but not too much.

Figuring out Dean Winchester had been a tricky balancing act, but Cas was finally beginning to think he’d gotten a handle on the man. The more he’d learned about him, the more stunningly complex and fascinating Dean had become. Instead of the rough and tumble action star that his agent’s dossier had described, he’d found a caring, thoughtful, intelligent, and talented man. Combined with the complete lack of any sort of Hollywood scandal attached to his name-- because Castiel had done his research before showing up in Bela’s office-- the current threat leveled against him had clearly put him out of his depth. He’d been living so carefully since arriving in LA that Cas hadn’t even known about the man’s brother until he’d met Dean in person. Discovering the close relationship and incredible sacrifices they’d made for each other over the years made it clear to Cas how much Dean valued his privacy and how carefully he handled his personal relationships. Meeting Charlie had proved that to him, too.

Castiel spent the last twenty minutes slowly adjusting to the realization that Dean was likely just as maddeningly conflicted about their entire situation as he was, even if it was for an entirely different set of reasons. If nothing else, this new knowledge helped Cas relax and stop thinking too hard about his job and the easy camaraderie they seemed to share, and he hoped that Dean would sense it and react accordingly.

This time when the movie ended, Dean wasn’t in any hurry to get up and race to put on something else. Cas felt gratified that he hadn’t driven Dean off again just by existing in proximity to him.

“So,” Dean said when the DVD menu reappeared on the screen. “You up for something else, or are you sick of sitting on your ass yet?”

Cas slowly rolled his head to the side and grinned at Dean, which strangely seemed to delight the man. “This is the longest I’ve sat on my ass in weeks. Months, maybe. I’m finding it exceedingly indulgent.”

Cas watched the smile spread across Dean’s face like watching the sun rise. Like Dean's laughter over breakfast, the sight warmed Cas in a way that he was beginning to believe might become addicting. In that moment he didn’t even let himself care. His new mission in life was to put that look on Dean’s face as often as humanly possible. Who knows, maybe Dean’s smile had the power to cure cancer or end global warming or bring about world peace. It would be a public disservice not to at least _try_.

“I’m guessing that’s a good thing,” Dean said, bouncing on the couch cushion a few times before getting to his feet and walking over to the shelves of movies to pick out another. “It took me two weeks to find the perfect couch for extended ass-sitting. Good to know my labor didn’t go to waste.”

Cas couldn’t help the snorting laugh he let out at that. Dean turned around so suddenly, blinking in surprise, that Cas blurted out a defensive, “What?”

Dean shut his gaping mouth but otherwise didn’t bother schooling his face into the sort of hearty false cheer he’d worn during the popcorn incident, which surprised and pleased Cas yet again.

“You laughed,” was all Dean said in reply.

“You were funny,” Cas said with a shrug. “I’ve been led to believe that’s the standard reaction to humor.”

It was Dean’s turn to laugh now, and Cas again was treated to the warm fuzzy feeling the sight generated in him. He sat there quietly absorbing the contentment radiating off Dean, until without another word Dean popped in a new movie and returned to the couch, still grinning from ear to ear.

“What are you so happy about?” Cas asked, resettling himself now that Dean seemed to be more at ease with his proximity.

Dean just studied him for a moment before finally coming up with an answer when the movie had loaded up to the menu screen with a triumphant blast of trumpet fanfare that seemed to startle him into responding. “I think it’s time to introduce you to Star Wars.”

Cas had a lot of questions about this film, beginning with why they were starting with Episode IV instead of Episode I, and Dean was more than happy to answer every last one of them.  At some point toward the end of the film Dean ordered dinner, which they ate while watching the next movie. By the end of Return of the Jedi they were both struggling to keep their eyes open. Castiel hadn’t even realized how they’d gravitated back toward the middle of the couch again until Dean nudged his shoulder with his own when he pointed the remote at the television to eject the disc and switch it off. He didn’t otherwise seem to be in any hurry to move.

“We should probably get some sleep,” Dean said quietly after a few minutes of comfortable silence. “Long drive tomorrow.”

“What time were you planning on leaving?”

Dean shrugged, jostling Cas again. “Didn’t really have a plan. Whenever we’re ready, I guess.”

“I can be ready with five minutes prior notice,” Cas replied, yawning.

“Well, I can be ready with _four_ minutes prior notice,” Dean teased, and then yawned too. “Dammit.”

Neither of them moved for another few minutes until Dean yawned again and then dragged himself up off the couch to put the movie away. That done, he held a hand out for Cas, still sprawled out and utterly relaxed. He just looked up at Dean and then took his hand so Dean could pull him to his feet.

Dean’s hand was warm in his, and they spent an odd long moment standing there holding hands before finally letting go. There was nothing awkward or uncomfortable about it, just that same warm contentment that filled him every time Dean smiled at him. There was no denying it now, Cas was officially addicted.

“Thank you, Dean.”

“For what?”

“Everything. Your time, your kindness, sharing your interests with me. I enjoyed it very much.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean replied, turning a lovely shade of pink. “I enjoyed it too, Cas. You’re good company.”

Cas didn’t even bother to try to contain his grin at that, which only served to make Dean blush even pinker. “I don’t believe anyone’s ever come to that conclusion before.”

“Then they’re morons,” Dean replied.

Cas would’ve laughed at that, but he was overtaken by another yawn that had Dean grabbing him by the shoulder and steering him off down the hall, turning off lights as they went.

“I think it’s officially bedtime for all the good little angels,” Dean said when Cas stepped into the bathroom to brush his teeth. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, Dean.”

“Night, Cas.”

Dean shut himself up in his room and Cas sighed. This was not something he should want, but there was no point trying to pretend that it was something he didn’t wish he could have. He was officially screwed.


	8. Chapter 8

Dean brushed his teeth, stripped out of his clothes and crawled into bed feeling warmer and lighter than he had in a long time. The anxiety over whether or not he’d been taking advantage of Cas had melted away somewhere between watching the Wicked Witch of the West melt into a puddle of robes and Yoda teaching Luke that _there is no try._

He wasn’t even really sure he could explain why, but it was obvious to him now that Cas at least had a general grasp of interpersonal relationships. Thinking back over all the insightful comments he’d made about Luke, Han, and Leia only solidified that feeling in Dean’s mind. The dude wasn’t clueless. Recalling the way Cas had touched his hand in the popcorn bowl, in light of this revelation, sent a belated shiver down Dean’s spine. It was probably for the best that he’d come to this realization in the privacy of his own room instead of out in the living room with Cas stretched across the other half of his couch.

Knowing all this didn’t automatically make everything better, but it was a start. There was still the the fact that Cas was only there to do a job. He wasn’t Dean’s new BFF.  As soon as Bela and Frank were satisfied that the threat to him had passed, Cas would probably be assigned to protect someone else and life would go back to the way it had always been before.

When Dean woke up early the next morning, it was with a strange mix of anticipation and regret. Sure, he’d be able to give Sammy a hug by sundown and that always put him in a good mood. But somehow he was still chasing the last wisps of a dream he wasn’t quite ready to let go of. All he could recall was that it was something good, but now it felt just beyond his reach and it left him feeling antsy and unfulfilled.

He was still lying in bed when he heard the guest bathroom shower come on, and finally dragged himself from beneath his warm blankets to grab a quick shower himself. He filled a duffel bag with a random assortment of jeans, t-shirts, and cozy flannel before dressing in more of the same and finally heading out to the kitchen to make sure he had time to ingest enough coffee to get him going for the long day ahead.

It wasn’t an excruciating drive; just under five hours to Sam’s. This would be Baby’s first real road trip since the previous winter, and Dean was sure she’d be spoiling for the open roads as much as he was after months of relentless commutes through LA’s choked traffic. Dean couldn’t wait to finally hear her roar again.

He'd dropped his bag by the door and headed straight for the kitchen to start a pot of coffee when Cas finally joined him, dressed exactly the way he’d been the first time Dean laid eyes on him, right down to the rumpled old trench coat.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Dude, what’s with the suit? We’re not going out on business here.”

Dean poured out two travel mugs full of coffee and rinsed out the pot, casting a brief glance at Cas fumbling with his tie and looking down at himself uncertainly again. It was all Dean needed for Thursday night’s foot-in-mouth feeling to return in full force.

“I don’t exactly own anything else,” Cas replied. “Other than what I was wearing yesterday. That didn’t really seem appropriate for a family gathering.”

Dean gaped at him for a second and then made an executive decision. “Okay then. I know what I’m gettin’ you for Christmas.”

Cas just stared at him for a moment, head tilting to the side like he was trying to parse Dean’s words and failing miserably.

“We’re making a stop at the mall. Come on,” Dean said, handing Cas one of the mugs and brushing past him on his way to the door.

Dean didn’t even check to see if Cas was following him. He just knew.

Two hours and three department stores later, Cas was wearing a pair of jeans and a blue plaid buttondown shirt that he still didn’t seem entirely comfortable in, but definitely seemed to appreciate. He still wore the trench coat, but Dean wasn’t about to complain. It suited the guy, somehow.

That didn’t stop Dean from buying him a sleek black leather jacket while Cas had been tied up in a dressing room trying on his new clothes. The purchase involved the covert assistance of a sales clerk and the pretense of Dean buying himself a few new shirts to explain away the extra shopping bag, but it was definitely worth it. Cas had to have something to open on Christmas morning, after all. Tiny Tim would definitely approve.

The drive to Sam’s, even with their delayed start and the Saturday before Christmas LA traffic, was still one of the most enjoyable that Dean could recall. Cas again proved to be excellent company. Rather than complaining about Dean’s music selections like Sammy always did, Cas seemed excited to learn about all the artists he’d only known of by reputation, if not by the actual music they performed. It led to some fascinating conversations, and for the first time in his life, Dean felt a little bit disappointed when he pulled up in front of Sam’s apartment.

“Well, here we are.”

They’d been parked with the engine off for a good thirty seconds already. Cas waited for another few seconds, taking in their surroundings like a soldier assessing a potential battle scenario, before turning to Dean with raised eyebrows and a questioning look.

“Is there some reason we’re not getting out of the car?”

Dean laughed a little uncomfortably, finally pulling his gaze from Cas and taking in the quiet college neighborhood, largely vacated for the holidays. It’s not like Dean could tell Cas why he was feeling so unsettled and out of sorts. This was probably the one danger Cas couldn’t protect him from. Dean’s first instinct, as always, was to school his face into an appropriately casual mask, but after the last couple of days getting to know Cas he just couldn’t bring himself to lie to the guy like that.  A slightly edited version of the truth would have to do.

“Nah,” he finally replied, smiling over at Cas until he eased off the high alert bodyguard thing a bit. “Just giving myself a minute to decompress. Long drive.”

Cas took a deep breath and nodded, as if it made any sense at all that the appropriate way to recover from too much time in the car was to spend a few more minutes sitting in the car.

“Whenever you’re ready, then.”

Dean glanced up at Sam’s balcony, draped with pine garland and a string of colorful lights, and hoped he could get through this week. His acting skills had never been able to fool Sam. His brother had an uncanny way of seeing right through Dean and all his bullshit. It was probably the lifetime of practice Sam had, making a thorough study of Dean while Dean had been busy learning how to become anyone else.

There was nothing he could do about it now, though, so he resigned himself to face his harshest critic and biggest fan. Well, aside from the person who’d been responsible for his need for Cas in the first place. Dean shuddered at the thought and finally moved to get out of the car.

“Hey, Dean!”

He looked up at the balcony again to see Sam waving and smiling, Jess at his side.

“Hey, Sammy. Jess.”

“Come on in,” Jess called down. “You’re just in time for dinner. I made a test pie for dessert.”

“Test pie?” Cas asked Dean quietly, a tremor of concern in his voice.

Dean grabbed the last of their shopping bags from the trunk and led Cas to the front door of Sam’s building. “She’s never made a pie before. I guess she wanted to practice before the main event.”

He turned just in time to see the relief and understanding wash over Cas’s face. By the time they reached the top of the stairs, Sam was waiting at their door with a huge grin on his face. He didn’t even give Dean a chance to drop his bags before the giant of a man had pulled his brother into a crushing hug. When he eventually let go, Dean walked over to Jess, finally put down his bags, and gave her a much more reasonable hug.

“Good to see you guys,” Dean said, grinning between the two of them and then tugging Cas into the apartment by his elbow. “This is Cas. Cas, this is my moose of a brother Sam and his long-suffering girlfriend Jess.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both. Dean’s told me all about you.”

“Well, that would explain why he was too busy to tell us much about you,” Jess said, welcoming Cas with a warm hug.

“There’s not really much to tell,” Cas replied, glancing uncertainly at Dean.

“I’m sure there is,” Jess replied kindly. “And we’ve got all week to get to know you.”

“We already know that he’s patient,” Sam tossed in. “He’s spent two whole days with Dean and hasn’t killed him himself yet.”

“Speaking of patience, is that apple pie?” Dean asked, catching a warm scent of cinnamon in the air.

“Apple cranberry, actually,” Jess replied. “But you have to wait until after dinner to have some.”

“It’s not even burnt or anything,” Sam added, desperately trying not to grin.

“Well, then,” Dean said, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. “Let’s get this party started.”

 

☆☆☆

 

Cas had been nervous about meeting Sam after everything Dean had told him about his amazing genius of a brother, and even more concerned by the fact that Dean hadn’t said much to Sam about him. But it hadn’t taken long before Cas felt at ease in their home. Sam and Jess both made him feel welcome, much the same way that Charlie and Dean himself had made him feel.

Over dinner they asked a little about his job, his family, and how he was getting along with Dean. When Jess asked how long he thought Dean might need a personal guard, Cas couldn’t help but notice the way Dean went very still beside him. Perhaps that was a question that Dean had been pondering, as well.

“It depends. Sometimes these cases are wrapped up in a matter of days, if the source of the letters proves to be no real threat.”

“So you might be gone before Christmas?” Dean asked suddenly.

Cas wasn’t sure, but he thought Dean sounded disappointed by that prospect.

“I don’t think so, no,” Cas replied. “We believe there is still a credible threat to your safety. I think I’ll have to stick around a little bit longer. Not to mention, I’ll need a ride back to L.A. one way or another.”

Dean snorted out a laugh, and out the corner of his eye Cas caught Sam watching his brother thoughtfully.

“So you’ll at least be around long enough for dessert,” Jess said, standing up to clear the table and breaking the strange tension that had built up.

Jess served the pie and everyone else sat back to wait for Dean’s official assessment of the first bite. Cas found it as bizarrely amusing as watching a wine critic going through a series of tests just to take a tiny sip of wine, but Dean insisted he had a process. He poked at the crust before cutting a piece off with his fork, then studied the filling, sniffed at it, and then finally shoved it in his mouth with a rapturous groan.

“I take it that means the pie is acceptable?” Cas asked, looking to Sam and Jess for confirmation since Dean’s eyes had rolled up in his head and he seemed transported beyond the capacity for speech.

Sam laughed and nodded. “Yeah, I think he likes it. Nice job, babe.” He leaned over and kissed Jess on the cheek before tucking into his own slice of pie.

“Beginner’s luck, I guess,” she replied with a shrug and a sly grin at Cas.

Cas was almost too distracted by Dean’s continued euphoria over the pie to remember to taste it himself.

“This is delicious, Jess.”

“You should drop out of school and open a bakery in LA,” Dean added with his mouth still full of pie.

Jess looked for a minute like she’d seriously consider it before Sam spoke up. “Better not, or Dean’ll eat himself to death inside a month.”

“Hey,” Dean grunted out while serving himself a second piece of pie and Jess replied, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Cas spent a good portion of the evening content to be included at all in such a pleasant domestic scene. The three others caught up on each others’ lives without making Cas feel like an outsider. Dean especially seemed to go out of his way to explain relevant bits of their history to put stories into context for him so he could share in the jokes and feel like he really belonged there. It had been one thing for Dean to show him that much care when it had just been just the two of them the previous day, but Cas had been fully prepared to spend much of this week feeling like the odd man out. By the time they’d all finished cleaning up after dinner, that worry had long since disappeared.

“So is there anything special you want to do while you’re here?” Sam asked eventually. “I don’t imagine you want to sit around our glamorous and luxurious living room all week.”

Dean turned thoughtful for a moment, and then looked over at Cas. “We’re only half an hour from San Francisco. We could check out the tourist stuff if you feel like it.”

“Or you could drive up and visit some of the wineries in Napa,” Jess suggested.

“I’m not really much for wine, but it’s a gorgeous drive if you’re up for it,” Dean said, still looking at Cas as if his opinion mattered.

It was a bit of a shock, and Cas wasn’t sure how he should answer. Dean wasn’t asking because it might impact his ability to do his job. He wasn’t asking because he wanted Castiel’s professional assessment of the safety or logistics of such an excursion. Cas was fairly certain that Dean simply wanted to plan an outing that he would enjoy. He eventually blurted out, “I’m amenable to whatever you’d like to do, Dean.”

Cas was rewarded with one of Dean’s sunshine-bright smiles and a pat on the knee.

“Awesome.”

They were both far too busy smiling at each other to notice the knowing, conspiratorial glance that Sam and Jess shared at their expense.

When it finally came time to turn in, Dean showed Cas to the guest room while Sam and Jess wrestled with the dinky old air mattress in the living room.

“What’s that noise?” Cas asked, when the little battery-operated air pump started up.

“They’re assembling my bed,” Dean replied, dropping Cas’s shopping bags full of new clothes next to the pull out bed in the guest room.

Cas peeked out the door and down the hall, finally understanding that Dean fully intended to sleep on the floor in the living room all week while giving him the only other reasonable facsimile of a proper bed in the entire apartment.

“That’s not right, Dean. You should take the guest room. I don’t mind sleeping on the floor.”

“Yeah, well, neither do I,” Dean said, unable to completely keep the cringe out of his voice and longing for his memory foam. “Besides, you’re the guest here. So you get the guest room. Them’s the rules.”

Cas gave him a skeptical look. “You’re a guest here, too, Dean. I can’t ask you to rearrange your family vacation to this extent on my account.”

“Technically, I own this place, so I’m not actually a guest,” Dean said, smirking in victory. “So suck it up and sleep on the damn sofa bed already.”

Cas snorted out a little laugh and gazed down at the bed. It was at least as large as the queen size bed he’d slept in at Dean’s apartment in LA, more than big enough for the both of them, really.  He couldn’t look up at Dean while he made the suggestion, but he still felt compelled to put it out there anyway.

“It’s a large bed and I wouldn’t mind sharing it, if you’re not comfortable sleeping on the air mattress. That is, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Several beats of silence later, Cas caught a glimpse of Dean pointedly staring at the bed and shifting from foot to foot.

“I… uh… I guess, thanks. But I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Dean finally looked up at him, his cheeks just a little bit pink, and smiled. Cas nodded and then, feeling a sudden surge of bravery, reached out to pat Dean on the shoulder.

“If you change your mind, the offer stands. I feel like I’ve disrupted your life enough already.”

He’d meant it as a joke, but he regretted it the moment he’d said it as he watched Dean’s face fall.

“You’re not disrupting shit, Cas. I kinda like having you around,” Dean said, and then flinched, as if he hadn’t intended to say that.

Maybe Dean saw the surprised flash of happiness cross Cas’s face at his words, or maybe he’d just figured there was no point stopping once he’d gotten started, but he took a deep breath and one step closer to Cas before going on more quietly, barely loud enough to be heard over the whining air pump in the next room.

“I really like having you around. Hanging out with you has been the most fun I’ve had in a long time. Hell, in years. Probably since I moved to LA. So, yeah, you haven’t disrupted anything except the drudgery that is my life.”

Castiel was so surprised by this revelation that he knew he must be smiling like a dope, but Dean didn’t seem bothered by what Cas assumed must resemble a raving display of excessive enthusiasm. He finally managed to nod and then reply.

“I enjoy your company, as well, Dean. I’m incredibly grateful to be able to spend time with you and your family. I’ve never felt more welcome anywhere before.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, rubbing the back of his neck. “That was kinda the plan here, Cas.”

Castiel was about to say something more when the air pump finally went silent. It was as if Dean only realized how close they were standing when the noise stopped, and he took a hesitant step back.

“Guess that’s my cue,” Dean said, pointing absently toward the doorway. “Night, Cas.”

“I suppose reiterating my offer to share the bed would be pointlessly redundant?”  
Dean grinned at him, and Cas in no way felt his comment had been pointless. He luxuriated in the pure delight radiating off of Dean, savoring it while it lasted.

“Nah. But thanks, anyway.”

“You’re welcome, Dean. Good night.”

“Yeah, g’night.”

Dean closed the door behind him as he left, and Cas quickly got ready for bed, sparing one last thought for Dean as he fell asleep.

 

☆☆☆

 

Dean woke up from a terrible dream that he’d been buried alive, only to discover that he’d been buried alive. Panic set in as he tried to remember where the hell he was and how he’d ended up trapped inside a giant flocked vinyl burrito. He kicked and shoved at his wrappings in an attempt to escape, and then remembered the air mattress on Sam’s living room floor. It must’ve sprung a leak some time after he’d fallen asleep and then folded over him as it deflated.

His back ached from the cold seeping up through the hardwood floor beneath him, and there was no way in hell he was gonna be able to salvage a decent night’s sleep now between the physical pain and the heart-clenching terror of being attacked by his own bed. When he’d finally freed himself from his shroud, he stood there staring down at the sad little tangled lump that was supposed to be his mattress, and then kicked it a few times for being such a disappointment to beds everywhere.

Dean found his phone and checked the time. 2:35 am. Great. He shot a forlorn look over at the tiny sofa, about a foot and a half too short for a grown man to sleep on, and then recalled Cas’s offer. He dithered for about five minutes, listing every reason why he should absolutely not crawl into Castiel’s bed in the middle of the night. He finally growled out one final scathing complaint to the wadded up bedding at his feet and fished his pillow out of the mess before trudging off down the hall.

At the door to the guest room, Dean hesitated for another minute or two, wondering if he should bother knocking and waking Cas up, or if it was better or worse to just sort of sneak in and hope Cas didn’t wake up. He chose option B after deciding it was his best chance to at least put off the fully anticipated awkward conversation until morning.

He cracked the door open and peeked in, but couldn’t see much in the dark. Of course this was a terrible plan, and only now did Dean uncover an entirely new set of objections that he hadn’t even considered out in the other room. It was too late to turn back now though, so Dean slipped into the room and shut the door behind him again.

Creeping around made him feel even more like he was doing something wrong, but dammit he really just wanted to lie down for another few hours. He clutched his pillow to his chest and inched his way around to the unoccupied side of the bed, trying not to disturb the Castiel-shaped lump while setting down his pillow and lifting the blankets to slide under them.

He’d barely even sat down before he heard a quiet and sleepy, “Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas. Sorry to wake you up.”

“It’s fine, Dean.” Cas replied, slowly propping himself up on one elbow to look Dean over. “Is everything okay?”

“The air mattress must’ve outlived its warranty.”

“You couldn’t sleep?”

“I was sleeping fine until it tried to strangle me. You don’t mind if I stay here tonight?”

“I already said so, Dean. You’re welcome to stay.”

Dean knew Cas was watching him, and he could tell from his voice that Cas sounded both half asleep and strangely… pleased. He didn’t spend too much time trying to work that one out, since it was still the middle of the night. He just grunted out his thanks and settled down under the blankets.

“You don’t snore, do you?” Dean asked as they were both drifting off again.

Cas just made a loud snort in reply and then rolled over with one last, “Good night, Dean.”

By the time they both woke up the next morning, Sam and Jess had already cleared away the bedding nightmare in the living room, and none of them said another word on the subject of sleeping arrangements. That seemed to suit Dean just fine.


	9. Chapter 9

Their week flew by, each day feeling less and less like work for Castiel and more and more like a proper family vacation. Away from LA, Cas noticed a marked change in Dean. Even when they’d made their impromptu stop at the mall on Saturday, Dean had still seemed guarded and reserved, like he’d just been waiting to be recognized by the bustling crowds of Christmas shoppers. Not necessarily in a bad way, but to Cas it had still felt like Dean had been putting on a performance for the public the entire time. It was a jarring contrast to the Dean he’d gotten to know in his home.

Every night, they both retired to the guest room and slept like babies. Their only moment of awkwardness came Sunday night when they’d had to face each other before climbing into bed together. Cas realized it was a little more difficult to do when the lights were still on and they couldn’t hide in the dark like they’d done the previous night. Once they’d gotten settled in, it only took a few minutes of quiet teasing back and forth for them to get over themselves and fall asleep. If they’d started waking up a little closer to each other every morning, neither of them was about to mention it.

After a few days hanging out with his family, it was fascinating for Cas to observe how different Dean was out in public, without the looming specter of paparazzi and the constant self-conscious awareness that he might meet someone who recognized him everywhere he went. Just walking around Stanford on Monday had been a revelation. Sam and Jess took charge on that particular outing, showing them around their favorite local hangouts, stopping for lunch in a little cafe, and giving them the grand tour of college life. Dean had been more than happy to hand the spotlight over to Sam.

Tuesday they drove up to Napa for the day, just Dean and Cas. Sam and Jess were supposed to meet up with a few of their friends who were throwing a pagan Yule party, and Dean begged off despite Sam’s insistence that they were more than welcome to join them.

“We won’t know anyone there, Sam. I’m not gonna start crashing random parities while I’m on vacation.”

Sam had tried to argue him into coming along anyway, but it was Jess who sided with Dean and changed Sam’s mind.

“Can you imagine Rowena and Ruby and Meg learning that your famous brother’s in town and hanging out at some kegger off campus? What do you think they’d do with this information?”

Sam thought about it for a second while Dean just smirked at him until the lightbulb went off.

“Shit, they’d have half the Bay Area population lined up outside the door inside an hour,” Sam said, the horror of it sinking in.

“Welcome to my life, Sammy. Random party crashing is a thing of the past,” Dean said, standing up from the table and waiting for Cas to follow him. “Plus my vacation would be over. I come up to visit you guys for a little peace and quiet, and I’m trying to hold onto that as long as I can.”

“Don’t worry, Dean,” Jess assured him. “We won’t blow your cover.”

They’d ended up spending the entire day just driving through the hills and valleys of wine country, stopping whenever something caught their interest. Dean and Cas explored kitschy tourist traps and roadside attractions, stopped for lunch at a hole in the wall diner, and laughed their way through the entire trip.

After lunch, they decided since they’d driven all that way, they should probably visit at least one winery. Dean asked a couple of locals at the diner for recommendations, and he explained to Cas that diner folks were his kind of people and wouldn’t steer them wrong. Since they were pointed to a small, out of the way family-run establishment rather than one of the big name companies he’d heard of and seen splashed on billboards all over the area, Cas figured Dean had been right in his assessment.

After a tour of the winter-barren vineyard and the entire winemaking process, they spent a couple of hours in the cozy tasting room and left with several excellent bottles of wine for Christmas dinner. They’d had enough to drink that Dean wanted to kill a little more time before heading back on the hour-long drive to Stanford, so they spent another hour and a half at a much nicer restaurant enjoying a substantially fancier dinner. It was the kind of place with white tablecloths and candles, and Cas kept having to remind himself that this wasn’t technically a date, despite the fact that it was probably the best date he’d ever been on.

It was full dark when they finally left the restaurant, and substantially cooler out now that the sun had set. The whole drive back, Dean kept the radio off so the two of them could continue the quiet conversation they’d started over dinner. Dean was talking about some of his family back in Kansas that he wished could be there for Christmas when Cas thought back over the rest of their day and realized Dean hadn’t been playing any music most of the day. After their first stop, to see a geyser where Cas had lingered over a flock of goats kept on the property while Dean stood by grinning at the entire encounter, Cas believed that that was when things changed.

At first Dean had teased him about how he’d been talking to the goats, then teased him about his interest in exploring the geology museum on the premises, but Cas had never been happier to have someone poke fun at him. Unlike the taunts he’d put up with for most of his life for being strange, for being an outsider, for being different, Dean’s gentle teasing was full of affection. It wasn’t long after the goat incident that Cas realized that while Dean was also enjoying himself, he’d specifically chosen to stop everywhere that Cas had shown an interest in, rather than choosing their stops himself.

That night when they crawled into bed, it took everything in Cas’s power to stop himself from sliding closer to Dean, to resist the overwhelming impulse to just crawl on top of him, pin him down and kiss him. Dean eventually startled him out of his inappropriate thoughts to wish him goodnight, and Cas could’ve sworn he heard a note of the same frustration he was experiencing in Dean’s voice.

“Good night, Dean. Thank you for today. I had a wonderful time.”

Dean was silent for a few minutes and Cas thought he might’ve fallen asleep until he finally replied.

“Yeah, me too.”

Cas wasn’t positive, but he was pretty sure Dean lay awake next to him for at least as long as he did before finally falling asleep.

 

☆☆☆

 

Wednesday morning was difficult. Dean had lain awake half the damn night trying to pretend to to be asleep. Even his acting skills couldn’t really cut it in his current situation. Under any other circumstances, the previous day would’ve jumped straight to the top of the list of his greatest dates of all time. It wouldn’t have even been a contest. Except it wasn’t a date. It _couldn’t_ be a date. And that simple fact was driving him insane.

He’d stood in a barnyard for fifteen minutes, completely enraptured by a guy talking softly to a bunch of goats. That was the level of absolutely, irrevocably _gone_ on Cas he’d attained. The fact he'd had to climb into bed with Cas when they got home hadn’t helped with his desperate endeavor to keep their relationship professional and platonic.

The universe was surely laughing at him by now.

There was no way in hell Dean could sit at home and try to keep pretending everything was normal and fine, especially in front of Sam. When he suggested to Cas that they drive into San Francisco for the day, Dean nearly snapped at Sam when he invited himself and Jess along for the ride. Dean bit his tongue and glared across the table at his brother in a vain silent attempt to change his mind, but judging by Sam’s smirk he already knew exactly how infuriating he was being. Sam knew better than anyone how to push Dean’s buttons, and in a really twisted way, Dean appreciated that. There wasn’t any rational reason for Dean to object, other than the one that Sam had made glaringly obvious (at least between the two of them, because dammit Dean knew he wouldn’t be able to hide is feelings for Cas for long when Sam was around, but he’d kinda hoped he’d at least make it ‘til Christmas), he grudgingly relented. All four of them set out as soon as they were done with breakfast.

Their first stop was Golden Gate Park, mainly because Dean had been paying attention over the last few days and knew how much Cas enjoyed gardens. After a few leisurely hours wandering around the park, they drove up to Chinatown for lunch. The four of them explored some of the crowded little shops together, and Dean was secretly pleased that Sam and Jess had welcomed Cas into their family so easily. All of them sincerely enjoyed each other’s company, and Sam and Jess included Cas seamlessly into their family banter as if they’d known him for years.

Dean had already been caught out at least twice by both Sam and Jess for staring a little too longingly at Cas. And dammit, that’s what he’d been trying to avoid, but at least the both of them seemed to understand his quandary and didn’t do or say anything to make it worse. Jess had even offered him a consoling pat on the shoulder along with a sympathetic and knowing smile.

The entire day had gone so much better than Dean had anticipated when they’d left the house that morning, and the knot of anxiety he’d felt had completely melted away. Watching Sam and Jess get to know and befriend Cas was quickly becoming the highlight of their trip. It also felt good to be out in public without worrying quite so much, and Dean had been willing to put up with Sam’s taunts about his disguise-- a baseball cap and sunglasses-- as long as it would help to delay the inevitable moment when someone would recognize him.

Unfortunately that delay didn’t last as long as he’d hoped, and it wasn’t long before Cas excused himself from a conversation he was having with Jess and gently tugged on Dean’s sleeve, wordlessly pointing out a girl standing across the road taking their picture. Of course he wouldn’t get to keep this. Dean instantly tensed up, torn between just ignoring the photographer and carrying on enjoying himself with his family or getting the hell out of there before Sam and Jess ended up targeted by association.

“What would you like me to do?” Cas asked quietly.

Dean glanced over at the girl, clearly showing the photo on her phone to her friend, trying to keep watching him without being noticed. He sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose.

“Twenty bucks says they already tweeted it or put it up on Instagram or whatever. They look harmless enough, but we should probably get going.”

Cas nodded, agreeing with his assessment, and together they ducked back into the shop where Sam and Jess were looking over an array of lucky cat statues and trying to decide which one they should buy. Dean held up one hand, a request for Cas to hang back while he broke the bad news to his brother.

“Hey, guys. I think we need to move on now.”

“What, you’re kidding right?” Sam asked, pointing to the cats. “Which one do you like best?”

“Right now I don’t like any of ‘em. And we need to go. I’ve been outed.”

Sam snorted. “You outed yourself years ago, dude. It’s too late to climb back in the closet.”

“Not the time, Sam,” Dean replied, stone-faced serious and an agitated tightness in his voice. “Cas saw a couple of girls taking my picture, and if they told their friends where I am, there could be more on the way.”

“Since when has that bothered you, Dean?” Jess asked. “I get you’re worried about the creepy stalker, but you’ve never let this sort of thing stop you from living your life before.”

“Since I’m not in LA, and since I’m standing in your backyard, and I do my best to keep these people out of your _literal_ backyard.”

Sam clearly got the message that Dean wasn’t kidding around. One glance back at Castiel standing behind Dean’s shoulder like a sentry in full-on bodyguard mode was enough to seal the deal. Dean was sorely tempted to turn around and see what Cas looked like in that moment, because based on Sam’s reaction, he was assuming it was probably terrifying. And hot. But he stopped that train of thought before it could leave the station. He could imagine it later on when he didn’t have an audience.

Dean and Cas left the shop first, followed a moment later by Sam and Jess. The girls were still standing across the road, not nearly as subtle as they’d been before while snapping a few more pictures as they walked away. Cas set the tone with his determined but still relaxed posture, and the four of them were out of sight of Dean’s fans within a minute. They still had a couple blocks’ walk ahead of them, but Dean finally slowed down and let Sam and Jess catch up. Jess looked a little shaken, but Sam was used to being photographed with his brother.

“I can see why you hate that,” Jess said when they’d caught up. “It’s really invasive.”

Dean shrugged. “It is what it is. At home I don’t mind so much because I expect it and it’s just part of life. I just don’t want it spilling all over you two. You guys didn’t sign up for that.”

“I appreciate that,” Sam said. “But you still deserve to have some fun and not have to worry about that shit.”

“That’s what Cas is here for,” Dean replied, throwing an arm around Cas’s shoulders and giving him a little jiggle, grinning ear to ear. “See? Disaster averted, and I’m not worried anymore.”

Cas snorted, and when Dean turned his grin on him, he noticed that Cas had turned a little pink. Despite his embarrassment at the praise, Cas still kept a watchful eye out. Dean wondered which look he’d like better; this shy but watchful Cas or the intimidating and serious Cas from the shop. He forced himself to stow that mental debate for later, too, when he realized how long he’d been staring at the guy with a dopey little smile on his face. One quick glance back at Sam and Jess to take in their gooey grins let him know it had probably been far, far too long.

Dean wasn’t about to let one close call ruin their day, though. Yeah, he’d do everything in his power to keep the public from intruding into Sam and Jess’s lives, but Sam was right, too. They all deserved to have a little fun.

Their next stop was Fisherman’s Wharf. Dean thought Cas might enjoy watching the sea lions for a bit, and he was not disappointed. Just like with the goats, Cas found them endlessly entertaining, which Dean found endlessly entertaining in turn.

Sam and Jess left them by the docks to do a little last minute Christmas shopping, and they’d agreed to meet back by the big Christmas tree in a couple of hours. Dean was grateful for the chance to be alone for a little while. Well, alone with Cas, which he was finding more and more was infinitely preferable to being entirely alone, even in the huge crowd of last minute Christmas shoppers.

“So, you having fun?” Dean asked after they’d been standing at the pier’s railing for a few minutes.

Cas glanced over at him and smiled, then looked back out over the sea lions jostling for the best perches on their floating docks. “That’s entirely irrelevant, Dean.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Dean said. “It’s not irrelevant at all. You deserve to have a good time just as much as I do.”

Cas gazed up at Dean again, doing that little critical head tilt that Dean had dubbed his _thinking face._ “Are you having fun?”

Dean tried to keep his face under control, he really did, but he was sure he was failing. “Yeah, Cas. I’m having a great time.”

Cas kept watching him, apparently finding Dean more fascinating than the cacophonous sea lions. He could feel his cheeks getting warm under the scrutiny, but Dean couldn’t look away.

“Dean,” a vaguely familiar voice said behind him, catching them both off guard and setting Cas immediately on edge. “How incredible it is to find you so far from home.”

It was her, the woman who’d followed him that fateful day in LA. Dean desperately didn’t want to engage with her, but he also didn’t want to make a huge scene, and there was no way to get out of at least acknowledging her presence without doing just that. At least this time he had Cas by his side, so he turned to face her head on. She was once again wearing a long, dark gown, as if she’d been headed for some Hollywood gala instead of holiday shopping with the masses. Not that she let any of that stop her from walking right up to Dean with a smile on her face as if they were old friends, as if she was certain he’d be pleased to see her again.

“What might you be doing this fine afternoon? A little sightseeing?” She was brought up short from getting up in Dean’s space when Cas moved slightly in front of him. “Oh dear, am I interrupting something?”

“No,” Cas replied, polite but firm. “Can we help you with something?”

The woman barely acknowledged Cas, glancing at him before dismissing him and returning all her attention to Dean, her voice somehow harder and more brittle. “We? I wasn’t aware that you were with someone, Dean.”

Dean gritted his teeth and bit back half a dozen angry retorts.

“I’m his assistant,” Cas replied for him. “We have some business to conduct, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, the assistant!” The woman said, seemingly delighted by this bit of news, but she still paid no more attention to Cas than she had to, again talking around him while trying to catch Dean’s eyes behind his sunglasses. “I was dying to schedule a meeting with you, myself, Dean. Maybe we can arrange that, since your assistant is here.”

“He’s not that kind of assistant,” Dean said. “You’ll have to contact my agent for that.”

The woman took a slight step back, affronted by Dean’s terse reply, but it only shook her for a moment. She took a breath and reclaimed her lost step, and then went right back to looking him over like a piece of meat. “I see. Well in that case, maybe we’ll run into each other again soon.”

Cas continued glaring at her while the woman walked past them, reaching out to drag one hand across Dean’s chest as she went. It took everything in him not to shudder and recoil at her touch, and as soon as she was gone he sucked in a deep, relieved breath and pulled out his phone to text Sam.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Dean muttered while firing off an extreme emergency text telling Sam and Jess to drop everything and meet them back at the car pronto. He hated to do it, but he invoked their childhood emergency code word that he knew would stop Sam from arguing and get him moving. “Thank fuck we weren’t with Sam and Jess when she showed up.”

Sam texted him back immediately saying they were on their way, and then a quick follow up to make sure Dean was okay. Dean ignored it for now in favor of getting the fuck out of there. As long as Sam wasn’t fighting with his demand, everything else could wait.

“I can see why you were so unsettled by her,” Cas said, walking determinedly by Dean’s side like a predator waiting to strike. “She clearly believes she has some sort of relationship with you.”

“Yeah, and I don’t even know her fucking name. It’s just _wrong_.” Dean thought over Cas’s assessment again. “And I’m fucking grateful you noticed it, too. I thought I must’ve imagined that shit last time.”

“You didn’t imagine it, Dean. I’m just angry with myself for not noticing her sooner.”

That actually made Dean laugh. “Yeah, we were sort of distracted there.”

They arrived back at the car and Dean started up the engine while waiting for Sam and Jess. Just the sounds and smell and feel of his Baby had helped him calm down, at least until he glanced over at Cas in the passenger seat. Dean took in Cas’s stiff posture, and the way he resolutely refused to look back at Dean. Cas was still on high alert mode, but Dean could tell there was something different going on, too. Something he couldn’t put his finger on, but he knew he wouldn’t like.

“Cas, man. Talk to me.”

His shoulders tensed up and he still refused to meet Dean’s eyes.

“I have one job, and that’s to keep you safe. I let myself forget that for a minute and look what happened.”

“Dude, it’s fine,” Dean replied, feeling a wash of cold through his chest, because no. He was not gonna let Cas blame himself for this. Watching him close himself off now, after the week they’d spent together, felt a thousand times worse than that first night when Cas had formally excused himself like a dismissed employee. After everything they’d shared over the last week, there was no way in hell Dean could even think about Cas pulling that on him now. “It wasn’t even as bad as the first time I ran into her. You got her to leave without making a spectacle, and that’s what matters.”

“She shouldn’t have even come near you, Dean. I don’t even know what I was thinking. I swear to you I won’t let it happen again.”

The ice spread faster, and Dean scrambled to put a stop to it. “Cas, listen. It’s not your fault. I just wanted you to have a good time.”

“I’m not here to _have a good time_ , Dean.” And boy did Dean ever hate the angry finger quotes, but that didn’t stop Cas from making them. At least he was finally looking at Dean, even if it was a frosty and painful glare. “I’m here to watch over you.”

Dean swallowed hard, wondering for one hysterical moment if this was the look Cas had given Sam to get him moving back in Chinatown, but he got right back to the point. “And you did that, Cas. Trust me, that chick is slippery. I didn’t see her coming the first time, and how the fuck did she even find me this time? It was a complete fluke! It’s not like she did anything awful to me. She’s just creepy as fuck. I’ll get over it.”

Cas glared at him, but Dean held firm and glared right back. He would not back down on this, and he wouldn’t let Cas beat himself up over it, either. Cas had come to mean far too much to him to let that happen now.

“You deserve to have a little fun too, Cas,” Dean insisted. “And if standing there watching the sea lions for a minute or two was making you happy, then fuck it. I want you to be happy, okay? Screw the creeper lady for ruining our day.”

“But,” Cas tried to cut in, but Dean wasn’t having it.

“No buts, Cas. You’re doing an awesome job, okay? I don’t know how we could’ve handled that any better. Even if you’d been standing at my back scanning the crowd, there wasn’t a chance in hell we were getting out of that situation without at least confronting her.”

“But if I’d seen her sooner,” Cas pressed on, and Dean cut him off again.

“Fuck that,” Dean said, indignant that Cas was still pushing this. “What would you have done? Dragged me away? Dragged _her_ away? Were we supposed to make a run for it? Plow through crowds of Christmas shoppers and tourists to hide from some weird chick in a fancy dress? That wouldn’t have been conspicuous at all.”

“I could’ve prevented her from approaching,” Cas tried again, but he seemed less certain of himself this time, so Dean pressed his advantage.

“What, by telling her off? Were you gonna ask her nicely to move along and then glare her to death?”

In five minutes Cas had gone from looking like a vengeful angel to a kicked puppy and Dean couldn’t stand that either. Dean reached over and laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Cas, we did the best we could in a shit situation. Please don’t let her ruin what’s otherwise been the best damn vacation I’ve had in years, okay?”

Dean didn’t miss the wide-eyed surprise on Cas’s face as the man slowly nodded. They were out of time to hash out the situation, though. Sam and Jess jumped into the back seat and started asking what the hell the emergency was. Dean gave Cas’s shoulder one last reassuring squeeze, making sure Cas acknowledged it and was okay, before throwing the car in gear and setting out for home.

“So I guess there won’t be any more outings while you’re in town,” Jess said.

“I think that would be for the best,” Cas replied.

“No it wouldn’t,” Dean said, and then sighed. “But yeah, it’s probably safest.”

“It’s fine,” Sam added. “Tomorrow’s Christmas eve anyway. The crowds will be even worse.”

“Yeah, the lines were out the door,” Jess said. “We’d given up trying to shop for anything anyway.”

“I think a Christmas movie marathon is in order for tomorrow,” Sam suggested, and everyone happily agreed.

They stopped at a little out of the way cafe for dinner on their way home, assuming that they couldn’t possibly run into Dean’s stalker by accident again so soon, and they’d been right. By the time they made it home the last of the afternoon’s tension had finally dissipated.

Cas still seemed a little more subdued than usual; at least to Dean. The thought hit him out of nowhere, blindsiding him with the fact that he already knew Cas well enough to sense those kinds of minute shifts in his moods. Sam and Jess didn’t seem to pick up on the change, so Dean let it lie for the time being.

When they all eventually turned in for the night, Dean took his chance to make sure everything was clear between them. Dean was already under the covers when Cas turned off the light and climbed in bed, and somehow having this discussion in the dark made it both easier and far more difficult. It suddenly seemed a lot less like a quick chat to make sure Cas was okay, and a lot more like a very serious conversation which skirted dangerously close to involving feelings.

They’d already put in a call to Bela to report the incident, which she’d expressed concern over but agreed they’d handled in the best manner possible under the circumstances. Her only advice had been to stay out of the public eye for a few days, which Dean and Cas both agreed with. Cas’s report to Seraphim went just about the same. The appropriate i’s were dotted and t’s crossed, and the incident was documented and filed away as evidence. Cas’s boss had actually praised his actions, for so efficiently and quietly extracting his charge from the situation. And yet Cas still seemed unsettled.

Dean lay there letting his eyes get used to the dark, the only light the softly colored glow from the neighbor’s Christmas lights blinking weakly between the blinds. When he could clearly make out Cas’s profile lying on his back a few feet away, Dean started talking, quietly enough that he was sure Sam and Jess wouldn’t overhear them.

“You did a good job today, Cas.”

Cas just continued to lay there for a moment, and Dean could faintly make out that he’d squeezed his eyes shut, trying to fend off this unwanted conversation, or maybe just trying come up with the quickest way to shut the whole thing down. Dean didn’t give him a chance.

“Even your boss said you’d done everything by the book. You gotta let it go, man. I’m fine, you’re fine, everything’s fine.”

“Nothing about that was _by the book_ , Dean. I appreciate your efforts to console me, but the truth is I hadn’t been paying attention. I’d lost track of my priorities, and I won’t let it happen again.”

Even in the dim light, Dean could tell that Cas had turned away from him.

“Well it’s definitely not happening again for the next few days. We’re not leaving the apartment until we pack up to drive back home on Saturday, so you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“That’s wonderful. My failure has made you a prisoner in your brother’s home. That makes it much easier to bear.”

Dean snorted, he couldn’t help it. “Dude the only reason we left the house at all this week was because I wanted to show you a good time.” At least Cas was looking at him again now.

“Even better. You wouldn’t have even been exposed to the threat in the first place if it hadn’t been for me.”

Dean made a frustrated little noise and restrained himself from crowding right up in Cas’s space. “I don’t think you’re getting this, Cas. What happened this afternoon? I’d go through that every day and twice on Sunday if it meant I got to keep you around a little longer, okay? I don’t know if you noticed this, but I like you. And I wasn’t lying. This has been the best damn vacation I’ve had in years. Maybe in… ever. And it’s got fuck-all to do with what kind of job you’re doing. But just in case you were wondering, I think you’re doing a kickass job anyway, and I feel a hell of a lot safer with you around.”

Cas stared at him for a minute while Dean tried to make out his shifting facial expressions, before finally speaking again, choosing his words carefully.

“That’s… kind of you to say, Dean, but I can’t just ignore the fact that I’d neglected my duty to you.”

“You really didn’t though,” Dean said.

“Dean.” It sounded pained, frustrated, but Cas sighed and went on. “I wasn’t paying attention to our surroundings. I lost track of everything around us in a potentially dangerous situation. It’s inexcusable.”

“Yeah, on a crowded sidewalk two days before Christmas. Real dangerous.”

“It was, Dean,” Cas insisted over Dean’s quiet laughter. He propped himself up on one elbow and leaned a little closer. “Someone who posed a known threat to you was able to walk right up to you on that sidewalk, because of me.”

“Cas, _anyone_ could’ve walked up to us, to me, all day long. The chick with the camera didn’t freak you out this bad. Why are you letting this get to you?”

Dean’s hand itched to reach out and touch Cas’s shoulder like he had back in the car hours before. It had seemed to reassure him a little bit then, but he held himself in check now. They were lying in bed together now, and it felt too intimate, too personal, too close to crossing a line that he wished more and more that he could just plow right over. Instead, he waited.

“Because I’m not sure I’m capable of protecting you anymore,” Cas finally said, looking down at the empty space between them.

“Bullshit.”

Cas glanced up at him, and Dean held his gaze.

“You did exactly what you were supposed to do. You stepped in and cut the fuse before anything regrettable happened. I don’t think anyone else in the crowd even noticed what went down. A fucking plus, man.”

“But if I hadn’t lost my focus in the first place…”

“Then what? You would’ve been standing behind me like some kind of professional bodyguard? Herding me around all day like a babysitter? Because I thought your whole deal was to blend in, be my assistant, not hired muscle.”

“Yes, Dean, your assistant. Not your lunch date, and not your friend.”

Castiel’s words hit Dean like a slap in the face and stung twice as hard. He hadn’t bothered schooling his expressions in the dark, and he realized the moment Cas must’ve seen the shock and hurt there, when some of the tightness in Cas’s shoulders dropped away.

“I’m sorry, Dean, but angels aren’t supposed to care for our charges. It makes it all but impossible for us to do our jobs.”

Dean only took a second to sort through the entire last week he’d spent with Cas before blurting out, “Okay, then. You’re fired.”

“What?” Cas looked just as stunned as Dean felt having said it.

“All right, then, laid off until we get home. Cas, I’d rather have you as a friend than an assistant anyway.”

“That… that’s not how this works, Dean.”

Dean leaned in just a little bit closer so he could be sure Cas knew he was looking him right in the eye. “We’re safe under this roof for the next two days, Cas. While you’re here, you’re family, okay?”

He finally dared to reach out and rest his hand on Cas’s shoulder again. Cas glanced uncertainly down at his hand for a second, and then back at Dean’s face.

“It’s Christmas, and we’re all here to have a good time. Plus you’re never gonna convince me that not caring about your clients is a sound business strategy.”

Cas actually smiled at that, and Dean counted it as a small victory. When he spoke again, though, Cas’s voice was practically a whisper.

“We’re supposed to care about you, Dean. We’re not supposed to care _for_ you. There is a difference.”

“Yeah, well… in case you hadn’t noticed, the feeling’s mutual.”

Dean was so grateful to the pink-tinged glow of the light for camouflaging his violently blushing face. He’d actually said that out loud. He drew his hand back from Cas’s shoulder carefully, watching him and waiting to see if his outburst had finally crossed that line. Cas seemed to be as surprised as Dean was at the confession, and they both lay there staring at each other in a state of mild shock.

“I don’t want anyone else watching over me, or whatever. I’m glad it’s you, for however long I get to keep you around.”

Cas let that sink in for a second, and then smiled. “You fired me, Dean.”

“Laid off.” Dean corrected. “Consider it a holiday.”

“It is a holiday. This whole week has been like a vacation,” Cas added, before stopping to consider it. “I don’t think I’ve ever been on a vacation before.”

Dean didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at that. “It’s great, right?”

Cas gave a little half shrug and finally rested back down on the pillow. “Aside from a few tense moments, it’s been rather enjoyable, yes.”

He did laugh then. “Same here, but honestly, it’s been so much better with you here.”

“Thank you, Dean. For everything.”

“Yeah, same, Cas. You had me worried there for a minute that you were gonna bail on me.”

That had Cas half sitting up again in defense of his honor. “I would never have left you unprotected, Dean.”

Dean got that same feeling he’d had the first time he’d met Cas, that the man was trying to x-ray him with his eyes. “Ah, I wasn’t worried about that. In fact, that’s sorta the opposite of what I was worried about.”

Cas tilted his head at a more severe angle. Dean had one slightly hysterical moment in which to wonder if that was Cas’s way of sharpening the focus on his internal x-ray machine, before taking a deep breath and spilling the rest of the confession that had been building up all week.

“I like you, Cas. I mean, I haven’t really dated anyone in a long time. It’s just I haven’t met anyone I really cared about enough to risk my career over, and then I meet you,” Dean reached up and rubbed his forehead, because this wasn’t coming out right at all. “I met you because you were basically forced on me by my agent, and half the time since then I just wished we’d met any other way, you know? But this is what I got, and if that’s all I get then I’ll take it. I’d rather have you, threat to my safety or not.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” Dean replied, and sighed. “I don’t expect anything in return, Cas, but I don’t want to lose you as a friend, either.”

This time it was Cas who reached out a tentative hand to clasp Dean’s shoulder. “I don’t want to lose you, either, Dean.”

Dean rested one hand atop Cas’s, warm and solid on his shoulder and took a deep, relieved breath. It was a good start, at least. “Good That’s good.”

Cas finally laid back down, but he left his hand where it was as they both drifted off to sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

Thursday morning Cas awoke feeling strangely content and comfortable after the difficult evening he’d suffered through. He’d spent half the afternoon debating whether or not to resign himself from Dean’s case. His lack of self-control around Dean was becoming a serious problem, and not because it necessarily impeded him from doing his job. That had been how he’d rationalized it to himself, though. It was safer than admitting the truth-- that his feelings for Dean had become something far more profound than mere friendship. Surely that would’ve been inappropriate to admit, and the safest resolution for everyone would’ve been to withdraw himself from the situation, regardless of how he felt. But of course Dean hadn’t allowed that.

No, Dean had not only spent the better part of the evening praising him for a job well done, but in the quiet dark of their room Dean had admitted that he had similar feelings for him. It had been a surreal conversation, tinged in twinkling blues and pinks and golds from the festive lights outside their window. He wasn’t quite sure he hadn’t dreamt the whole thing until he realized that the warm weight at his back and the arm draped around his chest belonged to Dean. Dean had curled around him in his sleep and cuddled him close like a teddy bear.

Cas wasn’t sure if he should quietly extricate himself from Dean’s grasp before he woke up, or if it would be better to lie there and pretend to be asleep until Dean got up. After a thorough assessment of the situation, he decided he was too cozy to move. He’d selfishly hold on to this as long as he possibly could. With that thought, he nuzzled his face down in his pillow and sighed.

“Mornin’, Cas,” Dean mumbled out against the back of his neck.

Cas tensed, knowing he’d been caught out and forcing down his first instinct to fling himself off the bed and out of Dean’s hold. Before he could react, Dean’s arm tightened around him, reassuring him and holding him in place. Without moving or even opening his eyes, Cas replied.

“Hello, Dean.”

“This, uh… this isn’t too weird, is it?” Dean asked, sounding so small and hesitant.

He let it all sink in, the fact that he must’ve rolled over in his sleep, and that Dean had followed. Even in his sleep Dean was reaching out to him, grounding him. Needing him. After their confessions in the dark last night, now in the light of day, Dean needed to know that it was still okay.

“No. It’s… quite nice, actually.”

Cas reached one hand up and rested it along Dean’s forearm, and Dean blew out a sigh of relief, tickling the hairs along the back of his neck.

“I didn’t want this to be awkward.”

Cas huffed out a little laugh and rolled his head to try and look over his shoulder at Dean. “I’d like to think this has already gone beyond awkward and emerged out the other side.”

Dean laughed outright at that, clenching his arm tighter and bumping his forehead down against Cas’s shoulder blades before loosening his grip enough for Cas to roll over and face him. He was gratified that Dean left his arm right where it had been, so that it now draped over Cas’s back, and didn’t withdraw now that they were lying face to face. It was ridiculously intimate. This defied just about every boundary that Cas understood about mere friendship, and his breath caught at the sight of Dean smiling happily at him from six inches away. He’d never been so tempted to kiss someone in his life, but Cas held back.

“So we’re good, right?”

“Yes, Dean. We’re good.”

“Good. Because we’ve got a stack of Christmas movies to get through today, and I think Jess is making waffles.”

Cas took a deep breath, finally sensing something in the air beyond the warm and comforting scent he already associated with Dean. Bacon, coffee, and waffles. Much as he would’ve preferred to stay right where he was just a little bit longer, his stomach growled at the merest suggestion of breakfast and Dean laughed as he gave Cas one more reassuring little squeeze before finally climbing out of bed.

Dean shared a silent conversation with his brother over the breakfast table while Jess had cheerfully carried on a conversation with Cas about the family’s ongoing yearly debate over whether or not Die Hard counted as a Christmas movie. It was sweet, but Cas understood that Jess had been trying to distract him in order to give Sam and Dean a moment to themselves. Cas couldn’t help but notice anyway, and he was relieved by Sam’s reactions to Dean’s unspoken acknowledgements.

At various points each of them glanced over at him, but when Sam ended by beaming at Dean brighter than all the lights on the little Christmas tree set up in the corner, and Dean shyly smiled up at Cas, he felt something click into place. It was more than just Dean, and what Cas felt for the man himself. It was this nebulous sense of family, of acceptance, of belonging somewhere that he’d never even known existed. Sure he’d found a place at Seraphim and he knew his work there was important, that he’d helped save lives, and that was nice. But it couldn’t hold a candle to this new bone-deep sense of _home_ that he’d found in Dean and his little family.

The rest of the day passed in a cheerful flurry of Christmas movies, beginning with Die Hard, because Dean had argued that Cas should be the one to decide whether or not it should count as a Christmas movie. Cas agreed with Dean, much to Sam and Jess’s dismay, that it should.

After lunch the kitchen was transformed into a bake-off as Dean and Jess prepared competing pies for their Christmas day feast, while Cas and Sam sat at the table keeping them company.  Dean also mixed up a batch of dough for homemade pizza, which went into the oven when their pies were finally done.

They ended the night watching It’s a Wonderful Life by the light of the Christmas tree. Sam and Jess curled together in Sam’s oversized recliner, while Dean sprawled out over the small couch with his head resting on Cas’s lap. It had taken them both most of the day to progress to this level of casual intimacy, full of hesitant touches and hopeful smiles, but as Clarence earned his wings Cas contentedly ran his fingers through Dean’s hair and glanced down to see Dean smiling back up at him.

They didn’t need any words when they climbed into bed, beyond good night, and Merry Christmas. With the lights out, Dean pulled Cas in close, and they ended the day the same way it had begun. Cas was almost too afraid to admit that he could really get used to this.

 

☆☆☆

 

Christmas Day started out even better than Christmas Eve had, in Dean’s opinion. He awoke with Cas’s forehead wedged under his chin, his mussed hair tickling his nose, and Cas’s arm wrapped around his shoulder. Dean smiled and nuzzled down into Cas’s hair like a creeper, but then Cas did the same to his shoulder and he realized it was all still okay. Cas wanted to be there with him as much as he wanted Cas to be there.

Dean’s heart raced, both with happiness that Cas was on board with whatever the hell they were doing here, and also with the fear that he’d still find some way to screw it all up. Just because things had changed between them didn’t erase the reality of their situation. Cas still had a job to do, and Dean still had someone threatening his life.

Cas blinked up at him with sleepy eyes, and Dean pushed those thoughts away for now.

“Merry Christmas, Cas.”

Dean watched the smile spread across his face and let Cas’s happiness warm him down to his toes.

“Merry Christmas, Dean.”

They spent the entire day in that tenuous bubble of security and contentment. After a breakfast of cinnamon buns and coffee, they opened presents. Cas was floored by the leather jacket that Dean had picked out for him what seemed like eons ago now. Dean grinned watching the realization spread across Cas’s face, putting together when Dean would’ve had time to buy him a gift, let alone have it wrapped. He’d tried it on in a wondering daze when Dean pulled it from his hands and held it up for him, and blushed pink when Dean spun him around and ran his hands down the soft leather encasing his arms.

“You look badass, Cas,” Jess called over to him, while Sam gave him a thumbs up.

“Yes, it seems Dean has remarkable taste, and a talent for surprises.” Cas said quietly, admiring the jacket and then looking up at Dean. “I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to get anything for you, but I have something…”

Cas handed him a small parcel wrapped in notebook paper.

“You didn’t have to, Cas.”

Cas shrugged it off as Dean tore into the paper and pulled out the pen inside, labeled with the angel wings and halo logo of Seraphim Security.

“I noticed you seemed to have a collection,” Cas started, before Dean laughed and scooped him into a hug.

“Yeah, Cas. I do. I think I’ve got a new favorite, too.”

Most of the rest of the day revolved around cooking and eating and then resting up to eat again. As Christmases went, it was the best one Dean could remember. That’s exactly what he whispered in Cas’s ear as they fell asleep that night.

Sam and Jess tried to talk them into staying one more day, but Dean was eager to get home. He only had one week left to get ready to go back to work. He’d pretty much ignored Bela’s advice not to overindulge during the holidays, and with the newly revised shooting schedule in hand he knew he’d be thrown directly back into a series of long days shooting fight sequences the moment he stepped back onto set. Vacation had been fun while it lasted, but at least he got to bring Cas home with him.

Cas was surprised when Dean had handed over the keys to his Baby for the drive home, even when Dean explained that he’d wanted to check out Cas’s driving skills before letting him take her out solo over the following week. They’d already agreed that Cas would fully assume the role of Dean’s assistant, running errands and handling any outside business while Dean split his days between working out in his building’s gym and memorizing his script.

The only major changes to Dean’s typical routine were the fact that Cas now joined him on his early morning run, and every night the two of them would climb into Dean’s bed together. When they’d arrived back from Sam’s, Dean had carried Cas’s bags as well as his own directly to his room and cleared out a drawer for Cas without a word. Dean was relieved when Cas had set about unpacking his things and settling in without making a fuss about it or putting up even a token argument.

When Charlie came over for New Year’s Eve on Thursday, she immediately picked up on the shift in their relationship. She hugged first Dean, and then Cas, and then stood back with her hands on her hips looking them over critically.

“Congrats, guys. Glad you got your heads out of your asses.”

Cas shot Dean a confused glance, and Dean rolled his eyes.

“She knows, Cas.”

“Knows what?”

“That we’re,” Dean waved one hand back and forth between them, wondering what the hell they were, exactly. Sure they slept in the same bed every night, curled together like lovers, but they hadn’t even _kissed_ yet. He didn’t really have a solid explanation for what they were. Cas watched him flounder for a moment before his eyes went wide with understanding.

“Together, you mean?”

Dean shrugged and nodded. It wasn’t inaccurate, so he rolled with Cas’s suggestion for now. It made him realize that he’d probably been avoiding that particular conversation far too long now. With the pressure of returning to his chaotic shooting schedule in just a few days it had been easy to simply fall into the comfort of the routine he’d developed with Cas over the last two weeks without stopping to think too hard about it.

Charlie just smiled and patted them both on the shoulder. “I knew you guys had it in you.”

They spent the evening relaxing and watching the festivities on tv. When the final minute to midnight began counting down, Charlie excused herself to the balcony to call Dorothy, who was currently up in Vancouver working on a project. That left Dean and Cas alone on the couch.

Something impulsive and reckless stirred in Dean, some combination of too much champagne and a longing that even sharing every other part of his life with Cas hadn’t been able to quench. When the countdown hit _three, two, one_ , he turned Castiel’s face toward his, asking for permission. Cas didn’t hesitate to give it, leaning in and placing a single soft kiss against Dean’s lips. Cas pulled back a second later, looking stunned with himself for having dared to do such a thing, and it set Dean’s heart racing.

He dove right back in, pulling Cas close and kissing that surprised look off his face. Charlie came back in a few minutes later, interrupting them with a cough.

“I can’t leave you two alone for five minutes, can I?”

Cas was about to protest, but Dean kissed him one last time and then smiled at him and mouthed _later_. When they all turned in a short while later-- Charlie to Sam’s old room and Dean and Cas to theirs--  Dean knew he couldn’t avoid that conversation any longer.

“I wasn’t sure if this would be awkward now,” Cas said as they crawled beneath the sheets.

“Is it?” Dean asked, one hand outstretched to switch off the light on his nightstand. He froze in place, waiting until he saw Cas smiling up at him before turning it off and wriggling over into Cas’s waiting arms.

“No, it’s still nice,” Cas answered, and then laid a kiss against Dean’s collarbone.

“Oh, thank God.”

“I understand we’ve done everything in the wrong order here, Dean, but I don’t ever want anything to be awkward between us.”

“Heh, that sounds like a New Year’s resolution,” Dean teased.

“I think it might very well be,” Cas agreed, stretching up to kiss Dean goodnight.

“I can get behind that one.”

 

Things carried on exactly as they’d been going, as Dean and Cas both adjusted to this new version of normal. Sunday night, while Dean was getting everything ready for his first day back on set in a month, Cas got an update from Seraphim while Dean got an emergency call from Bela.

“Dean, I’m sorry to bother you so late when I know you have an early call time tomorrow, but this is urgent,” Bela said when he’d answered. He watched Cas from across the room, watched his brow furrow in concern while he spoke to his boss at Seraphim.

“Yeah, Cas just got a call, too. He looks worried. What’s going on?”

“Frank discovered that someone’s hacked into one of the studio’s computer systems, and it’s possible that they may have gotten ahold of the shooting schedule. We don’t think it’s anything to be too concerned about, since the studio publishes the schedule a few days in advance anyway, but the entire ten week schedule with all the location information, the hotel information, everything. It’s been compromised.”

“What? What does that mean?”

“Well, first of all, it means that it looks like you’ll be stuck with your bodyguard for the foreseeable future, but aside from that the studio is scrambling to rearrange what they can, and look into alternate accommodations where they can’t.”

“And?” Dean was still waiting for the other shoe he knew Bela must be holding to drop.

She sighed. “And it looks like there’s very little that can actually be done at this stage of production. They’re shooting on an extremely tight schedule as it is. But they have agreed to allowing your _assistant_ to tag along with you at all times. Castiel is to remain with you whenever you’re not in front of the camera, and he’ll be given access to anything he needs on set and off in order to keep you safe. Is that agreed?”

The way she’d phrased it, as if she’d been expecting him to put up a fight over it, almost made Dean laugh. Some rational part of his mind stopped him from sounding too eager at the prospect, and he paused for a moment before offering what he hoped sounded like a grudging, “Yeah, agreed.”

“Splendid, then. Break a leg and all that, Dean. I’ll be in touch if the situation changes.”

When Dean hung up, he found Cas in the bedroom jotting down notes in his official file, _yes sir_ -ing his boss like the model of efficiency Dean had learned that Cas could be.

“This is unfortunate,” Cas said, finishing up his notes after he’d hung up.

“I don’t know about that,” Dean replied, sitting down behind him on the bed and resting his chin on Cas’s shoulder. “It means I get to keep you around indefinitely. I can’t say I’m complaining about that.”

“It’s going to be a logistical nightmare,” Cas said. “The first few weeks in the studio will be relatively simple to keep under control, but more than a month of location shooting after that leaves too many variables to contain them all. If someone is intent on getting to you, it’ll surely happen outside the secure studio.”

“Way to think positive, Cas.” Dean leaned in and planted a kiss on his cheek. “I appreciate the concern, though. Bela said it wasn’t all on your shoulders, either. The studio’s beefing up their security, too, and you get to boss them around.”

“I’d prefer it if no one was sending you thinly veiled death threats,” Cas replied, tossing Dean’s folder to the nightstand and leaning back into Dean as he wrapped his arms around around him. “But I do enjoy bossing people around.”

“That’s the silver lining.”


	11. Chapter 11

The first five weeks of production went off like clockwork. On set, Dean ran through his scenes like a consummate professional. As soon as the director called cut, though, it was a different story.

His easy friendship with Lisa had just as easily bubbled over to include Cas. While set security was at an all time high thanks to Castiel’s professional recommendations and supervision, on-set pranks and shenanigans were also at an all time high. Rather than a thorn in everyone’s side, all the joking around seemed to strengthen the close-knit family feeling among cast and crew. If nothing else, it helped ease their concerns over the strict new security measures.

Lisa was the only person on set who also knew the whole truth about Cas and Dean’s relationship. Dean had been worried that the rumors that Cas was something much more than his assistant would spread regardless, but Lisa also became their staunchest ally in that regard. They needed to maintain two deceptions instead of just the one now; hiding both Cas’s true role as a Seraphim security professional and their personal relationship. Of everyone they worked with, it would’ve been most difficult to keep either secret from Lisa for very long. After all, the three of them could usually be found together when they weren’t actively shooting a scene.

“What are little sisters for?” she’d said when Dean had finally come clean with her. “I gotta stick up for my brother, right?”

“I guess that’s where little sisters differ from little brothers,” Dean joked, and Cas punched his shoulder.

“I’ll not have you speak such blasphemies about Sam in my presence,” Cas said, glaring as Dean rubbed his shoulder in mock hurt.

Dean just grinned up at him in reply, while Lisa laughed.

Everything had been going great, more or less. Long days on set with only four full days off in more than a month left little time for almost anything else. Dean and Cas drove home from the studio every night and practically fell straight into bed, only to wake up a few hours later to get ready to do it all over again. The night before their last day scheduled to be in the studio, Cas expressed his relief as they lay entwined together in bed, half asleep as soon as they crawled under the covers.

“I have no idea how people can sustain this sort of working schedule throughout an entire career. It’s incredibly draining.”

Dean laughed and ran a soothing hand up and down Cas’s back. “Why do you think they give me a month off between films? Far as I know, we won’t go back to shoot the next one until early autumn. So that’s what? Six? Seven months off? ‘S’not a bad summer vacation.”

Cas hummed and pressed a kiss to Dean’s neck as he nodded off.

They reported to the studio early the next morning. The last day of shooting was scheduled to be very light. It mostly involved last minute additional scenes, and reshooting one scene that hadn’t looked right to the director on the dailies the day before. In addition to the actual work that still needed to get done, the studio had set up a little open promotional press event that they expected Dean and Lisa to host. It meant a little more work for Cas, but he’d personally vetted all the outsiders venturing into their secure little home away from home.

The morning’s interviews and set tour had gone very well. It had been the first media event focused on the first film in the series, which still wasn’t scheduled to open for several months yet, but Dean knew the action-packed trailer had already started running in theaters and on the studio’s official website. His twitter account had exploded when the advertising had begun. He couldn’t believe that over a million people followed him for his occasional tweets from set. It had him both a little concerned about the interview session going well, and also strangely at ease about the entire ordeal.  He knew this would be the first time a lot of those people-- his fans, and that was still a weird and strangely abstract notion to him, even with the drama one of those fans had stirred up in his life-- would get to see him out of character, as just Dean Winchester. But if they’d actually been paying attention to his tweets and still followed him anyway, he figured they’d already have a little bit of an idea of what they were in for.

Cas had followed the cluster of reporters throughout their tour of the studio, and then watched the more formal interview session unfold from the shadows just off set. Dean and Lisa sat together on the couch that had been a central feature in one of the main locations in the film. Their characters’ uncle’s house had served as a home base for them, a place of respite during their hunt for the devil. It seemed only fitting, Cas thought, for their first moment in the public spotlight.

For their part, Dean and Lisa charmed the press. Their stories about life on set and their obvious chemistry sparked the inevitable question about whether or not they might be a romantic item. Cas watched, biting his lip so he wouldn’t laugh out loud, while Dean and Lisa shared a ridiculously flirtatious glance. At a nod from Dean they burst out with simultaneous answers.

“Ew, gross. She’s my sister.”

“Oh my god, he’s my brother.”

And then they burst out laughing. The interviews wound to a close shortly after that, and filming wrapped a few hours later, well ahead of schedule. Everyone had been eager to finish, and the director had gladly called it a day an hour earlier than scheduled. The cast and some of the crew were relaxing together one last time before heading home, with mere hours left to get ready to move this show out on the road for another five weeks of filming. Those that hadn’t already left were all scheduled to fly out to their first remote shooting location in Colorado first thing in the morning, but for now they’d all gathered around in the living room set to unwind a little. Someone had commandeered a bottle of actual whiskey from the props department; and not the prop version that had been filled with strong tea, but the genuine article. It had been passed around a few times, and Cas and Dean had each had a couple of sips but not nearly enough to qualify them as drunk.

“We’d better be heading out,” Dean said eventually, standing up with a groan. “I’ve still gotta finishing packing.”

“Are you kidding, Dean?” Lisa asked, staring up at him in shock. “Our flight’s at nine. How are you this unprepared? Isn’t this what you have an assistant for?” She winked at Cas, barely containing her grin.

“Yeah,” Dean replied, throwing an arm around Cas’s shoulders. “Assistant. Not butler.”

“I’ll assist you to the car now, Dean,” Cas replied with a wink back at Lisa.

They’d just set out for the door when a PA burst into the room, breathless from bolting through the entire building to find them.

“Everyone out, quick. There’s a fire on stage two and for some reason the smoke alarm isn’t going off. Come on. Out!”

Once outside the confines of their cozy living room set, it was easy to see the choking black smoke rising from the set they’d just finished filming on only a dozen yards away. Oddly, they couldn’t see any flames, just the thick smoke billowing out of the small set building, curling up toward the rafters of the cavernous studio’s roof and rapidly choking out all the light, but it was more than enough to get them all moving toward the exit.

As a special security adviser, Cas had to stick around and answer questions about why the alarm system hadn’t been triggered while two truckloads of firemen cleared the studio and found the source of the smoke. All the while, Dean and Lisa had been relocated to the production office in a nearby trailer while the investigation continued.

The rest of the crew were being interviewed one by one by the fire marshal and then sent home. Lisa had volunteered to sit and wait with Dean until Cas was able to leave, too.

“This seems like weird timing for an accident on set,” Lisa said, helping herself to a cup of cocoa from the executive producer’s Keurig machine.

“Accidents don’t happen accidentally,” Dean replied, working on his second cup of coffee.

“You should lay off that stuff if you plan on getting any sleep tonight.”

She sat down in their boss’s chair and kicked her feet up on his desk.

“I’ll sleep fine when Cas tells me to.”

Lisa grinned at him over the rim of her mug. “So that’s how it is?”

“What?” Dean thought back over what he’d said, glared down at the coffee in his hands for making him so jittery, and then got up to dump it out in the sink. “No. I mean, I trust him. If he says everything’s fine, then everything’s fine.”

“That must be nice,” Lisa replied, resting her head back and closing her eyes.

Dean shrugged even though she couldn’t see it, and headed back toward the couch. Coffee jitters or not, he was exhausted. It wouldn’t hurt to lie down for a few minutes while he waited. He stumbled over the corner of the coffee table on his way there and fell to the floor, landing inelegantly on his hands and knees. Lisa didn’t offer up her usual quick retort at his less-than-graceful landing, or even ask if he was okay. And that scared him.

Dean summoned up the strength to look up at her in the chair above him and noticed that her mug had slipped from her hands and spilled hot chocolate all over the floor, the puddle slowly meandering in an interesting pattern across the hardwood. He stared at it for a second or two, confused about why he was still kneeling on the floor just staring at a puddle. Dean squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head to try and clear away the fog, and when he opened his eyes he saw Lisa again. He nudged at her leg, and she still didn’t respond.

“Lis. Hey, Lisa. I think we need’a get outta here. C’mon.”

He pushed up onto his knees and pulled her down off the chair. She gasped when she hit the floor and blinked up at him, confused and barely responsive. Dean had the presence of mind to pull out his phone and call Cas before urging Lisa to try and get moving with him toward the door. When she still didn’t respond, Dean decided he needed to get some fresh air into the small trailer as soon as possible, and dragged himself toward the door.

“Dean? I’m almost done,” Cas said as soon as he’d answered. “The smoke was the result of several canisters, the kind used for signal flares. They were set to go off on a timer, and had production not finished early they would’ve gone off just as we were scheduled to wrap for the day. We believe it was a poor attempt at a prank that went awry.”

Dean had crawled away from where he’d dropped his phone beside Lisa, but by that point he’d already reached his destination. He flung the door wide, and the moment the fresh evening air hit his face he began coughing and gasping.

“Dean? Dean! Are you okay? Dean? Hold on! I’m coming to you now.”

Cas kept talking nonsense as he ran through the studio, just to keep saying anything at all. Dean could hear Cas breathing heavily too as he sucked in a deep lungful of fresh air before going back inside to pick up his phone and carry Lisa out to safety. He collapsed on the ground a few feet from the trailer with Lisa still passed out across his lap, but at least he could finally say something to reassure Cas.

“I think we’re okay,” he said, raising the phone up to his ear again.

“Dean! What happened?”

“Gas of some sort, I think,” he replied, and overheard Cas barking out commands to people he passed on his way to Dean.

“The fire marshal is with me, and we’ll be there in a few seconds.”

“Good,” Dean said, and then saw Cas run out of the studio building, followed by several firemen and a medic.

Lisa was finally beginning to come around when she was pulled out of Dean’s lap and given an oxygen mask to help her breathe.

“The smoke might’ve been a prank, but this definitely wasn’t,” Cas said to one of the firemen, pointing the way to the trailer where Dean and Lisa had fallen ill.

“Carbon monoxide,” someone else confirmed a minute later, waving a meter with flashing red lights screeching out a warning about the dangerous levels of the gas present inside the trailer.

Cas crouched down on the ground beside Dean, who was finally feeling a little bit better after a few minutes in the fresh air. His hands hovered around Dean, suddenly unsure about how he should react since they were out in public. He decided that professionalism was the way to go for now, despite his urge to crush Dean in a hug and bury his face against Dean’s neck. But under the circumstances professionalism would extend to a cursory medical evaluation, and he took full advantage of the fact, resting a hand on Dean’s shoulder and leaning in close to get a better look at him in the fading evening light. It would have to do for now.

“Dean, are you okay?”

Dean took a few more deep breaths and nodded. “Yeah. Lisa was fine one second and passed out the next. I fell over and couldn’t figure out why I was on the floor, so I called you. And here you are.”

Cas grinned at him. “I always come when you call, Dean. I’m just relieved you’re okay.”

“Yeah. What the hell happened, anyway?”

Cas glanced up at the fire marshal standing over them, waiting for an explanation.

The man grunted and glanced over at one of his men examining the trailer, who held up what looked like a small scuba tank strapped to a radio, before turning back to Dean and Cas. “Looks like the smoke in the studio might’ve been a diversion. Someone pumped a canister full of carbon monoxide through the trailer’s ventilation system after you and Ms. Braeden went inside.”

“What the hell?” Dean asked, glancing between Cas and the marshal. “They waited until both of us were inside? Fuck, some asshole is _that_ hell bent on getting to me that they’d be willing to hurt Lisa, too?”

Cas squeezed his shoulder reassuringly and then stood up. “That’s what we’re trying to determine now.”

A medic brought an oxygen mask for Dean, and despite Dean’s protests that he was feeling better, Cas insisted that he at least sit there and breathe the pure oxygen for a few minutes, so that’s exactly what he did. Cas walked off with the marshal to inspect the tampering and discuss their next steps. While Cas was busy, Dean pulled out his phone to make a quick call to Sam. This was definitely gonna make the morning news, and he didn’t want his brother to worry.

Cas also got in touch with his bosses at Seraphim, but unlike the last time he’d had to call to report an incident, he wasn’t second guessing his ability to perform his duties. He was just _pissed_. Dean could hear him loudly questioning his boss over the fact that it had been nearly two months since they’d been assigned Dean’s case and they were still no closer to uncovering his stalker, who’d now apparently escalated to acts of indiscriminate violence. It took Lisa finally coming around to distract Dean from the sight of Cas so worked up, all because of him. He tore his eyes away from Cas and scooted over closer to where Lisa was beginning to stir.

“Hey, Lis. How ya doing?”

She blinked up at him from where her head rested on a folded-up fireman’s coat, glancing blearily around at the flurry of activity surrounding her. “Dean? What? Why am I lying in the road?”

The medic treating her explained what happened, and Dean shrugged when she cast a horrified glance up at him.

“Sorry about that. I guess it’s too dangerous to be around me right now.”

Despite having just regained consciousness, she fought off the medic so she could sit up and smack Dean’s arm. “Shut up. You didn’t hurt me. Some whackjob did. You don’t get to take credit.”

“Don’t want credit,” Dean said, deadly serious. “I just don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

“Way I see it,” the medic said, pulling off the blood pressure cuff from Lisa’s arm and slinging his stethoscope around his neck, “You saved her life.”

Dean flushed pink at that and held up a hand to deny it. “You only needed saving in the first place because of me. Doesn’t count.”

“Well I’m still breathing,” Lisa said as Dean and the medic helped her to her feet. “I’d say that counts.” She pulled Dean into a hug.

The director came by a minute later demanding answers and fretting about his stars’ well being. Dean and Lisa assured him they were both going to be fine, and he huffed a huge sigh of relief before giving each of them a hug and wandering over toward the fire marshal and Cas to discuss the implications of this attack on the future of their production.

If Dean’s stalker was brazen enough to attack him within the relative security of the studio, what might they be capable of doing once they were out on location? Since the production schedule had been compromised, the majority of their accommodations on the road had been adjusted, but there were still a few remote locations where they’d had no other options. Dean glanced around at the assembled cast and crew still on set and could tell they were all uneasy. He knew exactly how they felt.

After talking with the director and the investigators, Cas had a few ideas that might narrow down their pool of suspects. Now that it had been cleared and aired out, Cas stepped into the production trailer to use the computer and he brought Dean along with him. Lisa and the rest of the crew had been sent home for the night. They weren’t the ones who were in danger, after all. Lisa had hugged Dean again before leaving, reassuring him that she’d be fine, and would see him bright and early for the flight to Colorado.

Outside the trailer, the police department had joined the fire department in investigating the crime that had been committed, but Cas was entirely focused on pulling up the records of every non-employee who’d been at the studio that morning. He sat in the chair where Lisa had lost consciousness, pounding away at the keyboard until he’d found the documents he was looking for. When he compared his notes to the studio security office’s records, he noticed a single discrepancy and _growled_. He picked up his phone and gave Dean a significant _pay attention_ look before his boss answered and he began explaining his findings.

“A single security pass wasn’t returned to the front gate until nearly an hour after the other journalists left the facility,” Cas reported, staring at Dean the entire time as if he was only talking to him and not filing an official report with his boss. “Ms. Sydney Borden. Her credentials checked out before she was issued a visitor’s pass, but right now she is our most likely suspect, barring any other evidence coming to light. I’m issuing a copy of our report to the detective in charge of the case now, and I’ll be back in touch as soon as we learn anything more.”

Cas nodded at Dean and then exchanged a few more _yes sir’s_ with his boss and hung up as he printed out a copy of everything for the police. He grabbed the pages off the printer and then walked right up to Dean, staring into his face from inches away before pulling him into the crushing hug he’d been needing since this whole mess began.

“You’re not leaving my side until we find the person who did this,” Cas said into the side of Dean’s neck.

Dean kissed his temple and hugged him back just as hard. “You’re not gonna hear any argument from me.”

Cas leaned back after a minute and then dove in for a brief kiss, but Dean wouldn’t let him go. The realization that he’d survived a serious attempt on his life was doing funny things to Dean. He couldn’t believe how slow and careful he’d been with Cas over the last two months, when all along his stalker could’ve hit him like this out of nowhere. Life suddenly felt all too short to be slow and careful about anything. He just needed Cas, and one little kiss couldn’t possibly be enough.

Cas didn’t have any complaints with Dean’s coping strategy, and kissed him back just as desperately for a few minutes. They broke apart only enough to catch their breath and Dean pressed his forehead to Castiel’s. He opened his eyes so he could look right into Cas’s.

“I don’t think I even care if anyone walked in on us right now.”

Cas made a pained little noise. “It would still pose a certain difficulty with my employers.”

Dean closed his eyes and shook his head gently. “What’s the worst they could do?”

“They’d remove me from your case and send you another angel, for starters. We’re not allowed to fraternize with our charges, Dean.”

“Is that what we’re doing here? Fraternizing?”

“Dean,” Cas replied, sounding so pained that Dean opened his eyes again. And yep, there it was. Cas wasn’t sure.

Dean loosened his grip on Cas and looked away, anywhere but into Cas’s doubtful eyes. He tried to step away, but Cas held him tight, even tighter than before.

“No, it’s not what you’re thinking, Dean. It’s just… I can’t give them a reason to take me away from you.”

Cas grabbed Dean’s chin and forced him to look right into his eyes, and anything that Dean had interpreted as doubt before was gone now, replaced with a fire that stole his breath.

“I need to protect you, Dean. I have to see this through.”

“You gotta know, Cas, that I don’t care if they pull you off my case. I’d wanna keep you around anyway, right? Because as sick as this sounds, I’ve been dreading the day they catch this freak if it meant you’d disappear too. I kinda need you, too.”

Cas leaned in and kissed him again, but it was Dean who pulled away first this time.

“Even if your bosses found out, I’d want to keep you with me, okay? Far as I’m concerned, this isn’t fraternizing. It’s gone so far beyond fraternizing.” Dean took a deep breath and reminded himself again how close he’d come to joining the choir invisible less than an hour ago, and that there was no time like the present to admit the truth he’d suspected for a while now. “I love you, Cas, and I don’t give a flying fuck what that means for either of our jobs, because Bela’s probably gonna kill me for it if the stalker doesn’t get the job done first.”

Dean watched Cas’s eyes go wide at this revelation, and he kept talking anyway because he needed to get all of this out before he burned through the last of his adrenaline-fueled courage.

“I’m not gonna let anyone take you away from me, okay? I need you to stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Dean. I… I love you, too.”

Dean just nodded, unable to say anything more, and Cas smiled up at him, looking almost relieved to finally be able to admit it out loud.

“That’s good, Cas.”

Dean was about to move in for another kiss when Cas sheepishly held up the now wrinkled reports he’d printed out. “I regret having to say this, but I still think it’s imperative that we do what we can to find the person who’s trying to kill you, both in my capacity as your angel and as your… “ Cas trailed off, not knowing what these new revelations meant to their relationship status. He’d once described them as “together,” but that didn’t seem significant enough anymore.

Dean finished his sentence with the hopeful sounding suggestion of, “boyfriend? Either way, Cas, you’ll always be my angel.”

Cas whacked the back of Dean’s head with the crinkly reports and smiled. “Fine, Dean. Make your jokes. But can we at least put on a show of professionalism for the police?”

Dean laughed. “Yeah, benefits of dating an actor. We’re good at putting on shows.”

Cas’s smile widened and he rewarded Dean with one last kiss. “We can continue this discussion at home.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

Dean stood by Cas while he handed over the documents and explained their significance to the detective in charge of his case. She introduced herself as Detective Diana Ballard, and then looked them over, grim faced, and explained that similar devices to the one that had almost killed Dean and Lisa were found in several other locations, including both Dean’s and Lisa’s personal trailers. It seemed like whoever had planted them had been listening in on the other end of the radios attached to each of the canisters, and activated the devices by remote control when they’d heard Dean’s voice.

“We’re really lucky there wasn’t anyone in any of the other locations. The fire department’s sweeping the entire studio just to be sure we found them all,” she said, holding up Cas’s documents. “Hopefully this’ll give us a lead on finding the person responsible for this.”

“How’d anyone sneak that shit through security?” Dean asked, glancing over at a long table where the collected canisters were being processed and packaged up to take back to the station as evidence.

They weren’t small. Each of the devices was about the size of a small fire extinguisher, and there were at least four of them. Dean couldn’t imagine someone smuggling them in unnoticed.

“Our working theory is that someone shipped them in, possibly as a part of a special delivery to the props department. I understand they received a sizable shipment of specialty equipment that they haven’t uncrated because it’s being packed straight onto the truck that’s leaving tonight for your location shooting. We think our perp intercepted the package that contained these devices and then planted them before leaving the studio.”

Dean stood and blinked at her. “That’s a lot of fucking trouble to go through.”

Detective Ballard shrugged. “Some people have a lot of time on their hands, and a really twisted sense of what constitutes a hobby.”

Cas reached up and laid a hand on Dean’s elbow. “Is there anything else you need from us tonight?”

“I don’t think so, but I have your number and I’ll give you guys a call as soon as we have an update for you.” She waved her phone in the air as a promise, and then smiled. “I’m glad you’re okay, Mr. Winchester. I’m really looking forward to watching you beat the devil.”

Dean laughed. “Yeah, thanks. I’ll do my best with that.”

“I understand you guys aren’t even taking a day off to regroup after this? Straight back to work tomorrow? I guess the show must go on with you Hollywood types, eh?”

“That’s more of a Broadway thing, but it works here too.”

“Well, good luck to you. Hopefully we’ll catch this jerk for you sooner than later and give you a little peace of mind.” She stuck her hand out for Dean to shake, and then Cas.

“Yeah, good luck to you, too.”

 

It was after seven by the time they got back to the apartment. Dean had swung by the In-N-Out on the way home from the studio, and he and Cas hadn’t even bothered to wait until they got home to start eating. They’d devoured their burgers as Dean navigated the few blocks to his building and finished them while they sat in the front seat when Baby was safely in her spot in the parking garage.

There was a very real possibility the cops would catch the person who’d been threatening Dean, and soon. He’d become so accustomed to having Cas around, he wasn’t sure what he’d do with himself once Cas didn’t have a reason to stay anymore. He absolutely had come to rely on Cas, and not just for his protection. Dean needed him. Period.

It was impossible to imagine having to go back to how things were before; before Cas had become such an integral part of his life. The thought of Cas moving out again, back to where he’d lived before, to take on another case and spend all his time with someone else, Dean just couldn’t cope with any of that.

Upstairs, Dean headed straight for the bedroom to finish packing. It took him all of five minutes to toss half a dozen shirts, a few pairs of jeans, and enough socks and underwear for a week into a duffel before declaring himself officially packed. He’d throw in his toiletries after he’d showered and brushed his teeth in the morning, and they’d be ready to go.

Cas took a few minutes longer, setting all his clothes in neat stacks into his suitcase. The minute he was done and had set the case on the floor, Dean pounced. He grabbed Cas and held him tight, fingers grasping at his back, his face pressed to Castiel’s shoulder.

“Promise me you’ll stay, even after they catch this dick.”

“I promise, Dean. I’m not going anywhere.” Cas was taken aback by the suddenness and intensity of Dean’s attack hug.

“Good, because I was thinking I’d have to hire you myself as my real assistant just to keep you around.”

“I am a very good assistant,” Cas agreed, smiling and pressing a kiss to Dean’s temple.

“Shit, it’s been a terrible day. First I thought I was gonna die, and then I thought I was gonna lose you, and I don’t even know which would be worse anymore.”

Cas pushed him back by the shoulders to give him a very stern look. “Dying would definitely be worse.”

“Says you,” Dean replied and then dove in for a kiss.

They’d only known each other a little over seven weeks. Not even two full months. And already Dean was making the big declarations that he’d never even planned to make to anyone. They’d been sharing a bed almost as long as they’d known each other, even if that had started out innocently enough. Strangely, at least for Dean, it had essentially _stayed_ innocent. The kissing had been going on for more than a month, and they slept curled around one another every night, but Dean had been patiently waiting for Cas to initiate anything more than that. They still hadn’t even gotten to the point where they’d seen each other completely undressed, even by accident. And that was practically a feat in itself since they now shared a bedroom and a bathroom.

Dean’s shower time fantasy life had taken on new levels of frustrated anticipation, but for the most part they’d been so busy with work that neither of them had had the energy for anything more than crawling into bed every night and holding on to each other until dawn. And Dean had been surprisingly okay with that.

Tonight everything had taken on a new urgency. Cas tugged at the hem of Dean’s shirt until Dean let him go to whip it over his head and toss it across the room. He met Cas’s eyes asking for permission as trembling fingers reached for the top button on Cas’s shirt. Cas gave a little nod and raised his hands along Dean’s sides while Dean tried to make quick work of removing Cas’s shirt. Cas dropped his arms and let the shirt fall to the floor before pulling Dean close.

Dean gasped at the sudden warmth of so much of Cas’s skin pressed to his own. He’d known the contours of Cas’s body through his clothes, but running his hands over the strong muscles of Cas’s back without even the barrier of a thin cotton t-shirt was intoxicating. Their nightly cuddling sessions didn’t even come close to preparing him for this.

Cas was equally undone. He’d held himself back from this, wanting Dean like this for months but terrified of what it might mean. He had a job that he still needed to do, and he’d crossed so many lines with Dean already. Somehow knowing that Dean wanted him just as much-- _loved him_ just as much, made everything else irrelevant.

“You could’ve died, Dean,” Cas said when Dean moved from kissing his mouth to kissing his way down Cas’s jaw and neck.

Dean paused at his collarbone and left one last little nip that he soothed over with his lips. “You could’ve left, too. Would’a had the same result.”

They stood there for a moment just staring into each other’s eyes. Dean realized Cas wasn’t studying him, trying to figure him out anymore. It wasn’t so much an inquiry as an understanding, like Cas had finally finished processing every piece of his soul and fully assembled the final product. For the first time in his life, Dean felt whole.

“Are we just supposed to stand here like this, or…” Cas trailed off.

Dean laughed and kissed him again. “We can do whatever you want, Cas.”

Cas nodded and then kicked off his shoes. “I want to get you out of the rest of your clothes.”

“That sounds like a good start,” Dean agreed, grinning up at Cas as he bent to unlace his boots.

When he stood up Cas began fumbling with his belt buckle and Dean reached over to start on Cas’s.

“Only fair, right?”

Cas glanced up at him with a shy smile and a little shrug before getting back to work. Stripped down to their boxers, Dean guided them to the bed. He pulled Cas in beside him the same way he did every night, but this wasn’t any night. Cas paused for a moment, staring at Dean before making a decision, and then wriggled out of his boxers and dropped them to the floor. Dean nearly choked at the sight of a naked and very much aroused Cas crawling across the bed toward him and whipped off his own shorts as Cas tentatively reached out a hand to his chest.

Dean was breathing heavily, fighting the urge to throw himself bodily at Cas, but he lay there and let Cas explore his body, leaving everything up to Cas. Not that Dean could keep his own hands entirely to himself. Cas ran his fingers and his mouth across Dean’s neck and down his chest, while Dean grounded himself with one hand in Cas’s hair and the other clasped tightly to Cas’s shoulder. He let out a startled gasp when Cas discovered his nipple and his hips reflexively arched up in search of relief. For all his exploration, Cas hadn’t even gotten close to where Dean needed him right now. He didn’t think he’d ever been so hard in his life and he just needed Cas to touch him.

Dean groaned and surged up, flipping them over so that Cas was stretched out on his back and he straddled Cas’s thighs. He took a moment to look down at Cas the way Cas had looked at him, and god he looked good like this. His hair was a mess from Dean’s hands, and he looked up at Dean like they were the last two beings in all of creation and he wouldn’t have it any other way. Dean smiled, running his hands from Cas’s shoulders, down his chest and across his nipples, arching his eyebrow when Cas reacted the same way he had.

“Okay, Dean. Please.”

“Please what?”

Instead of answering, Cas reached up to the back of his neck and pulled Dean down on top of him. Dean didn’t waste any more time teasing him, kissing him hard and grinding his hips down against Cas. Cas gasped into his mouth and responded, desperately seeking the warmth and friction of Dean’s body. Dean had intended to take his time. He’d wanted to savor this, luxuriate in the discovery of everything that turned Cas on, everything that brought sounds of pleasure to his lips and stole the breath from his lungs. But he could do all of that next time. Right then they were both too far gone to slow down. It was all just too much, and amid the fear and joy and the feel of Cas clinging as desperately to him as he clung to Cas, their kisses turned to open mouthed gasps as Dean felt Cas stutter and tense beneath him and call out his name. It was enough to send Dean toppling over the brink after him.

They lay there for a few minutes, Dean collapsed atop Cas in a warm satiated puddle, pressing gentle kisses to the side of Cas’s neck while Cas ran gentle fingers in mindless patterns across his back. He really didn’t want to move, but eventually Dean peeled himself off to get them cleaned up. When he’d finally settled back down in bed and shut off the light, Cas curled into him the same way he’d been doing every night, but it was entirely different now.

“Love you, Dean.”

“Love you too, Cas.”


	12. Chapter 12

They’d fallen asleep early, and were up just as early the next morning. Dean was glad of it, and happily pulled Cas into the shower with him. He finally got a chance to take all the time he’d wanted to the night before, exploring every inch of Cas’s body to his heart’s content. It was the most satisfying shower he’d had since he’d met Cas.

Since they were taking a chartered flight to Denver and then would be spending the next five weeks following a carefully plotted itinerary, moving from location to location across the midwest in a daily grind of shooting, Dean left Baby in the garage and they took a cab to the airport. The thought of being shuttled around on buses and in vans, with no freedom to just go for a drive and entirely at the mercy of a schedule, was all but stifling. He hated to do it, but at least his character in the film had a decent set of wheels he wasn’t ashamed to drive.  The old Mustang might not have been his Baby, but she held her own. Cas, at least, was polite enough not to laugh at him when they’d left their building through the garage so Dean could bid her a final farewell.

As they walked through the small charter company waiting room at the airfield, Cas was mildly surprised when Dean reached over and grabbed his hand. He’d been under the impression that Dean would want to maintain the illusion that Cas was still merely his assistant, at least while they were in public. He knew it was only a matter of time before someone noticed there was something more going on between them, and there wasn’t exactly a crowd present to witness it here, but it was still far more of a display of affection than he’d expected.

Dean gave his hand a tight squeeze and pulled Cas in close to whisper in his ear, “You’re about to witness one of the greatest acting performances you’ll ever see in your whole goddamned life.”

Cas turned an inquisitive face on Dean, who laughed and dropped his hand, grasping Cas’s shoulder for a moment before releasing him entirely. Dean didn’t leave him in suspense, pulling him aside as they stepped out of the quiet of the waiting room onto the busy airport tarmac where the noise of jet engines would swallow Dean’s words before anyone else could overhear them.

“Dude, I fucking hate airplanes. Bela tried to negotiate a three day break in the schedule before we hit the road so I could drive out myself, but it didn’t work out.”

Cas’s confusion turned immediately to concern, and he stepped up as close to Dean as he dared, wishing he could offer Dean a more tangible form of comfort. “Are you going to be okay?”

Dean smiled at him and nodded, reaching out where he was sure nobody could see to brush the backs of his fingers across Cas’s hand. “Yeah. I figured it was only fair to warn you, though. Just in case I seemed a little off. It’s not you, it’s me.” That made Dean laugh again.

They resumed their trek out to the jet the studio had chartered. It was just big enough to accommodate the cast and the members of the crew who hadn’t already set out with the convoy of equipment trucks to get their first location set up for shooting. The core cast wasn’t particularly large either, and many of the extras and smaller parts had been cast locally in the towns where they’d be filming. It was one of the details Dean had really appreciated about working on this project; involving a lot of small-town actors who were essentially in the same place he’d been just a few years earlier. He was all too happy to pay his success forward.

When they reached the rolling metal staircase beside the jet, Dean waved Cas on ahead of him. It had been an excellent decision all around. With Cas wearing his new leather jacket instead of his old trench coat, Dean had an excellent view of Cas as he ascended the steps. The handrail was also high enough that it gave Dean enough privacy to give Cas one final playful swat to the ass before he’d have to plaster on his Professional Actor Smile for the next two hours or so. To his credit, Cas didn’t even flinch, just stopped at the top of the stairs in front of the open door long enough to usher Dean aboard ahead of him so he could return the favor.

Turns out Dean and Cas were the last two to arrive, thanks to Dean’s careful planning. They’d left their suitcases with the desk agent inside, and by the time they’d found their seats the luggage compartment was being sealed up and the ground crew was rolling away the staircase they’d just climbed. The less time Dean had to spend on a plane, the better.

“We were taking bets on whether or not you guys were gonna make the flight,” Lisa said from across the aisle when Dean had fastened his seat belt.

Dean rolled his eyes at her. “Like they’d leave without me.”

Lisa shrugged. “The FAA doesn’t care if the big movie star is running late. Air traffic control doesn’t work like traffic on the Five.”

“Thank fuck for that or stalled planes would be dropping out of the sky left and right,” Dean joked.

Cas was surprised by the cavalier joke after what Dean had told him outside, but then he noticed the strain in Dean’s shoulders, and the way he was not-so-casually clutching the armrest between them for dear life, his knuckles white under the strain. Cas leaned across him to ask Lisa how she was feeling, and used the distraction to covertly rest his hand on Dean’s arm, rubbing soothing little circles against his wrist with his thumb. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it did seem to help Dean relax a little bit.

With Cas and Lisa both helping to keep the conversation going, Dean somehow survived the flight and they landed uneventfully in Denver. When their luggage was offloaded, everyone was shuffled off to a series of small charter buses headed off to several different locations. Those who didn’t have a call time until later would have a chance to settle in at the remote campground they’d be spending the next four glorious nights at while the rest of them trundled off through the frigid early February flurries to the first of two locations outside of town where they’d be filming.

“Wish I’d brought a heavier coat,” Dean lamented as the wind bit through even three layers of flannel and leather. “Maybe a hat.”

Cas smiled at him contentedly as they settled in for the long ride, running one hand down the front of the jacket Dean had given him for Christmas. “I’m finding this jacket is more than up to the task.”

That brought a smile to Dean’s face and honestly warmed him more than a hat would’ve.

The first day of filming was long and grueling, battling the elements and the odd snafus that were inherent to working in such a remote location. They’d had to take a fifteen minute break at one point to wait out a passing snow shower. Another unscheduled break had them huddling for warmth in a trailer while a lighting rig was de-iced. It was then that Cas finally had a chance to check his messages, and they’d received their first distressing revelation of the day.

Dean and Cas had the trailer to themselves. Since it was the first time they been alone together all day they were taking full advantage of it, squished together in a big comfy recliner. Shut up, sharing body warmth is a thing when it’s fucking one degree outside. Dean took the opportunity to close his eyes for a few minutes while Cas pulled out his phone to read a new update from Detective Ballard, sent nearly an hour earlier. Dean’s nap was cut short almost immediately when Cas sat bolt upright at the news.

“The woman we suspected to have planted the canisters at the studio last night was found dead this morning,” he said without preamble.

Dean took and deep breath and rubbed his eyes, struggling to sit up with Cas still essentially planted in his lap. “What’s that?”

Cas climbed to his feet so Dean could un-recline the recliner, and began pacing back and forth as much as the small trailer allowed. “They’d initially been called in to investigate a suicide, but when her identity was uncovered Detective Ballard was brought in. It looks like she was poisoned with the same type of gas canister. And they don’t believe it was a suicide.”

“What the fuck?” Dean was fully alert now, and Cas finally settled on the arm of the couch beside him and handed over his phone for Dean to read the entire report.

The police had been staking out her home since the previous night, waiting to question her on the incident at the studio. She never did return, and instead was found at a pay-by-the-hour motel in West Hollywood, with an expended carbon monoxide canister attached to a breathing mask that had been forcibly pressed to her face. There were only minimal signs that she’d struggled with her assailant, but Dean knew from very recent and all too personal experience that she wouldn’t have been able to put up much of a fight for long.

The working theory was that she’d gone to the motel to meet with a co-conspirator, and was then eliminated to tie up a loose end. It was looking more and more likely that Sydney had only been responsible for carrying out the plan, after a search of her house uncovered a handwritten list of instructions detailing exactly where she’d find the poison gas, how to arm the canisters, and where to hide them.

From her notes, she seemed to be under the impression that she was planting covert listening devices that were somehow powered by the gas canisters. Her notes referred to them as “battery packs.” In return, she believed she’d be getting the scoop of a lifetime. The address where her body had been found was supposed to be nothing more than an information exchange. She’d been promised the full details of Dean Winchester’s secret romantic liaison with his co-star, Lisa Braeden. Dean finished reading the rest of the report, but that detail sent a shiver down his spine.

“My stalker’s still out there,” Dean said, feeling a knot grow in his stomach while Cas nodded solemnly as he worked his way through the facts. “And for some reason she thinks me and Lisa are a thing. What the fuck? Why?”

Cas shrugged and moved to sit next to Dean so he could run a soothing hand up and down his back. “I’m not entirely sure you were the intended target,” Cas replied. “It’s equally likely your stalker intended to hurt Lisa.”

Dean stopped breathing at that, and Cas went on to reassure him, showing Dean the next message in his inbox.

“She’s safe now, Dean. Another angel has already been dispatched to watch over her. Anna is very good at her job. Lisa is in good hands.”

Dean finally started breathing again, and nodded.

“Does Bela know about all this?”

“I would assume so,” Cas replied. “She was cc’d on the email you just read.”

“I guess they still haven’t figured out who the creepy lady in black is yet, or if she’s the one who’s behind all this shit.”

“I’m sorry Dean, but at least I think your case has definitely become a priority for the police now.”

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, and all it took was me and Lis nearly dying.”

“And one overly-ambitious but rather naive young woman actually dying,” Cas added.

“Holy crap,” Dean said, putting a few more pieces together. “The girl who died, was she the one who’d asked if Lisa and I were together?”

Cas thought back to the interview, and then nodded. “I believe so.”

“Shit. The studio wanted us to string that along. We made a joke out of it. I mean, we denied it, but we didn’t deny-deny it.”

“This isn’t your fault, Dean,” Cas reassured him.

“She probably thought we were just evading the question because we were trying to hide a relationship that doesn’t even exist. I mean, that’s what the execs wanted them to think. It was just a stupid PR stunt.”

“I know, Dean, but Sidney likely would’ve carried out the plan no matter what you’d said. Even if she didn’t, we can’t know if she would’ve gone to that motel to meet with the person who’d put her up to it either way. And none of that is your fault.”

“Yeah, well, I still feel like it’s my fault that Lisa got dragged into this. I wish there was some way to make the stalker think I was single. Maybe throw some kind of ‘win a date with Dean Winchester’ contest or some shit. With my luck, she’d probably find some way to rig it so she’d win.”

“I was going to suggest we start a rumor that you and I are romantically involved instead,” Cas said cautiously. “I could inform my superiors of the plan, and it would have the distinct benefit of allowing us to act like a couple in public while hopefully also ensuring Lisa’s safety.”

Dean’s eyes went wide at first, his pulse racing at the thought of not having to hide his relationship with Cas. His heart screeched to a halt when he realized the major downside of that plan. “It might take the heat off of Lis, but it also puts it squarely on you. Yeah, thanks, but no thanks. I’m not putting you in her crosshairs instead. Fuck that.”

“Dean,” Cas said, reaching up to rest his hand on Dean’s cheek. “That’s my job. I can handle myself.”

Dean squeezed his eyes shut for a second and then dropped a quick kiss on Cas’s lips. “I know it’s your job, Cas. That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Cas smiled at him and kissed him again. “I’m not leaving your side either way, so I’ve already made myself a target by proximity. At least this way we might be able to spare Lisa from harm.” He paused and made a considering face. “And I’d be able to do this without worrying that someone might see.” Cas leaned in and planted a mind-blowing kiss on Dean.

Dean blinked as he tried to catch his breath, and then stared, stunned, at Cas. “Well, when you put it that way, I can see the advantages. Okay, but I gotta call Sammy and give him the heads up. He and Jess would kill me themselves if some reporter found out we were officially together before we told them.”

“And call Bela, too, while you’re at it,” Cas advised him. “See if she has a specific reporter she trusts to leak the story.”

Just then, a PA knocked on the door and called Dean back to set.

“I guess it’ll have to wait a little longer.”

Cas nodded, and they bundled back into their coats to head back out into the cold.

They didn’t get another break until nearly nine o’clock that night. Lisa had finally joined them on location after spending most of the day resting in her cabin with her new Angel companion. Anna turned out to be as competent as Cas had described, with the added benefit of being a friend of his, too; someone Cas trusted with the full, unvarnished truth. When they’d laid out their plan to go public with their relationship, rather than being shocked or threatening to report him for violating company policy, Anna had offered her enthusiastic support and had given Cas an equally enthusiastic congratulatory hug.

Lisa and Anna joined Dean and Cas for dinner in the trailer, while Dean and Cas made phone calls. Sam got the full story, and was more shocked to learn that Dean and Cas hadn’t gotten together _sooner_ than the fact that they were making their relationship public on purpose now, though he and Jess both were deeply concerned by the reason behind it.

Dean wasn’t quite ready to share the full truth with Bela yet. Dean and Cas were both concerned about how she’d react to the fact that Dean was actually involved with the bodyguard she’d hired to protect him. They could apologize for misleading her later, once they all survived this bullshit. After hashing everything out with Bela, they suffered through a brief interview with none other than her secretary, Becky. She asked them to forward her a couple of “juicy, paparazzi-style photos.” When Dean groaned, Becky scolded him.

“You _want_ them to think you’re canoodling on set. You’re an actor, Dean. Act. And then send the evidence. I’ll be waiting. You have ten minutes.” And then she hung up.

“At least you two won’t have any trouble _acting_ ,” Lisa said, stifling a laugh.

“I suppose we should take the pictures outside,” Anna said, holding her hand out for Dean’s phone. “Make it more believable that some passing stranger caught you in the act and snapped a few pics.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Have you seen where we are? Freaking middle of damn nowhere. The only passing strangers I’ve seen all day had four legs and fur.”

“Lucky them, considering the weather out there,” Anna replied, waving her hand more insistently until Dean passed her his phone.

“Fine. Let’s do this.”

He grabbed Cas’s hand and they found an out of the way spot around the other side of the trailer. It was parked just off the road, so Anna and Lisa crossed to the other side of the street to give the proper setting to their shot. Dean and Cas could hear the two women giggling, but they didn’t let that stop them from enjoying their first public display of their relationship.

“So how do you wanna play this?” Dean asked, pulling Cas in by his waist.

It felt pretty good, not just to reach out to him when he felt like it, but also because fuck it was cold and holding Cas close made him feel a bit warmer.

“I think this is an excellent start,” Cas replied, leaning in against Dean and smiling up at him.

They stood there for a few minutes, talking quietly, laughing occasionally, exchanging little kisses here and there... and largely forgetting the entire reason they were standing out in the cold in the first place.

When Anna interrupted them to hand Dean his phone, she and Lisa merely exchanged a knowing grin and excused themselves to return to set.

Dean had just enough time to admire the new photos with Cas before firing off an email to Becky with half a dozen of the pictures attached. They’d decided together that a few of them were just too personal to send, capturing looks on their faces that could’ve earned them both Oscar noms if they’d truly been acting. Dean set his personal favorite as his phone background, and then gave Cas one last quick kiss before rushing back to set for another few hours of work.


	13. Chapter 13

It was well after midnight by the time the director called cut and sent everyone to get a few hours’ sleep. The campground they were staying at was comprised of a few dozen small cabins clustered around a large central bunkhouse where most of the crew would take their rest when they could get it. Star billing had its privileges, and Dean was grateful to learn that he’d scored one of the private cabins, and even more grateful to learn that someone had already set a fire going in the hearth.

The cabin consisted of a single large room, the stone fireplace at one end and a huge old four-poster bed at the other. Whoever decorated the place did their best to fulfill every cliche of a hunting cabin, from the light fixture in the center of the ceiling constructed from a tangle of antlers to the bear skin rug covering the wide wooden floorboards between the couch and the hearth.

“At least it’s warm,” Dean said to Cas as they dropped their bags beside the bed.

“And I didn’t have to sneak over here.”

Dean glanced around the cabin and then back at Cas, finally realizing that the room only had the one bed. Cas smiled broadly and stepped around his suitcase to stand beside Dean.

“I have an assigned bunk with the rest of the security team at the lodge. I’m not technically supposed to be here.”

“Yes you are,” Dean replied, pulling him in close.

“Of course I am.”

 

They were loath to get out of bed the next morning. It was delightfully warm and cozy under the blankets even though the fire had burned down to embers during the night. Dean eventually dragged himself out of Cas’s arms and bolted naked across the room to throw another log on the fire. He dashed back to bed and under the covers just as quickly, Cas laughing at him throughout his ordeal. It wasn’t long before the cabin was warm enough for them to finally get up and shower.

Their cabin had a small coffee maker, but they’d need to trudge over to the main lodge for breakfast. One look out the window at the fresh dusting of snow along the sidewalk was enough for Dean to ignore his growling stomach in favor of waiting for a fortifying cup of coffee before heading out into the elements. It gave him and Cas both a chance to catch up on their correspondence.

The first thing in Dean’s inbox was an email from Becky with a link to the article she’d written up and leaked to a celebrity gossip website. The article itself was just a paragraph of the typical sort of Hollywood speculation about who Dean Winchester’s mysterious beau could be, all framed with the oohing and aahing that’s usually attached to covertly obtained photos of celebrities captured in potentially compromising positions. It was about what Dean expected, but the hyperbolic language still had him rolling his eyes. Cas just laughed.

“Nothing new from the detective?” Dean asked when Cas finally got himself under control.

Cas shook his head. “They’re still processing evidence from the crime scene, but they don’t expect anything useful to come of it.”

Dean just nodded and opened Twitter. He was confronted with a veritable flood of notifications, and a quick check of his mentions confirmed that yep, word had definitely gotten around about his mysterious new lover. He showed the phone to Cas, whose eyes widened at the near continuous flow of new messages rolling in. Dean scrolled down in an attempt to read a few, just to see what people were saying about them.

“People are trying to guess who you are,” he told Cas with a little laugh. “Shit, some of their theories are wild. Where do people even come up with this stuff?”

Cas was in the process of sending a message to his supervisor to be sure they were also monitoring the influx of new information to Dean’s twitter. Amid all the noise and chatter of social media, it was possible that Dean’s stalker could be one of those voices. At the very least, it was worth keeping an eye on it. His message sent, he returned his attention to Dean, curious.

“What are they saying?”

“Here, listen to this,” Dean said, and then put on a high-pitched girlish voice. “Did perpetual bachelor Dean Winchester have to go all the way to Colorado to find love?” He snorted, and then read another. “Who is that guy? Is he an actor? He’s definitely hot enough.”

Cas made a stifled choking noise at that, but Dean pocketed his phone, leaned in with a smile and planted a kiss on him.

“I can’t argue with your new fan, sunshine, but we gotta get going before your sudden fame can go to your head.”

Cas frowned at that, and it took Dean off guard. He stopped in his tracks and turned his full attention to Cas.

“What’s wrong? Having regrets about going public?”

Cas took in Dean’s worried expression shook his head. “No, at least not for the reasons you’re probably thinking. It’s just that _sudden fame_ isn’t a desirable quality in a personal security specialist. I may have rendered myself obsolete.”

Dean’s expression shifted from concern to outright horror, and Cas rushed to fix it, gently taking Dean’s face between his hands.

“But I can’t regret it, Dean. I’d rather have you, any way I can, than an endless string of assignments.”

Dean still looked dubious, so Cas leaned in closer and pressed on.

“So seeing as I may soon find myself unemployable in my previous profession, I’m halfway hoping your offer the other night to hire me as your assistant still stands.”

He’d finally succeeded in putting that smile as bright as the sun back on Dean’s face, and Dean pulled him in for a kiss.

“You _are_ a very good assistant.”

 

Filming went as smoothly as could be expected over the next few weeks. They’d been through half a dozen different small towns between Colorado, Wyoming, and Nebraska. Half the crew began complaining about the long bus trips between locations, but Dean was just glad they weren’t flying everywhere. Cas was relieved at first that there hadn’t been any more communications from Dean’s mystery stalker.

As the days progressed and Dean spent long hours in front of the camera, Cas began to grow more and more concerned by the stalker’s radio silence. They’d leaked a few more candid photos through Becky over the first few days, and Bela’s office had received numerous requests from reporters for a statement from Dean. In response, Dean tweeted a picture of the two of them from set introducing all his followers to Cas. He’d continued tweeting a new picture nearly every day since. Sometimes their daily pictures included Lisa, sometimes they included director-approved sneak peeks at the location they were filming at that day, but they always included Cas.

While he’d been grateful that there’d been no further attacks on anyone, Cas couldn’t believe that someone who’d been willing to manipulate and kill an unwitting accomplice over it would give up their pursuit of Dean so easily. They’d made one attempt on Lisa’s life on the mere _speculation_ that she might have a romantic relationship with Dean, and ever since then he and Cas had been repeatedly flaunting their _actual_ relationship without a peep out of their assailant. Their sudden apparent disinterest was unnerving.

That all changed late one night during the first week of March as they were finishing up a long day of shooting in an abandoned warehouse in rural central Kansas. The cast had gathered around the craft services table for a last mug of hot chocolate before everything was packed away, while waiting for the shuttle bus that would take them to their hotel a half an hour’s drive away. The crew was nearly finished tearing down the last of their equipment and loading it up into the trucks bound for their next location; the rush of barked orders and instructions tapering off into the light-hearted banter of familiar friends. The bus was running late and someone made a joke about it getting stuck in traffic out there in the middle of nowhere.

“Lost in a cornfield, more like,” Anna replied.

“No corn this time of year yet,” Dean added, pointing out the desolate, winter-fallow fields around them. “Just dirt.”

“Said the farm boy,” Lisa teased, elbowing him in the ribs.

“Hey, I might be from Kansas, but not anywhere around here.”

“He’s city folk,” Anna said seriously, and then snorted.

The bus finally appeared in the distance and they watched it approach with anticipation, eager to get out of the cold after a fourteen hour day running around a drafty, dilapidated warehouse. It slowly trundled along as if the driver was unsure that he’d found the right place, before it actually came to a complete stop on the deserted road. The driver sat there idling for a good minute and a half before he switched on his turn signal as if there were any other vehicles around for miles who might need to be made aware of his intent to turn.

“Come on, come on,” Dean said under his breath, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet to keep his half-frozen blood flowing. “It’s not like we’re all freezing to death out here waiting for you or anything. Just turn already.”

The bus lurched forward suddenly and then turned far too sharply, missing the driveway to the warehouse entirely and toppling sideways into a drainage ditch. Black smoke poured out of a crack in the broken windshield, and everyone on the scene stared aghast at the wreckage before Cas and Anna’s instincts and training took over. The two of them took off running to assist the driver, with Dean right on their heels.

“Stay back, Dean!” Cas shouted, holding one hand out toward him in warning.

Even from a dozen yards away Dean could hear an unsettling mechanical whining noise coming from the wreckage, like the driver still had his foot mashed to the gas pedal. Dean had the hysterical thought that flooring it wasn’t gonna help at this point as the wheels spun uselessly in the air.

It was difficult to make out anything through the spiderwebbed glass at the front of the bus, and through the choking cloud of smoke filling the interior. It reminded Dean of the smoke bombs that had merely been a decoy back at the studio nearly a month ago, and the memory of it sent his heart racing.

“Be careful, Cas,” he yelled out, letting his fear for Cas’s safety overpower Cas’s order to him long enough to get his feet moving again.

Anna had already attempted to break through the partially shattered front window, to no avail. Cas took a turn, delivering a powerful side kick that still did nothing more than extend the network of cracks running through the laminated safety glass.

Dean looked for some other way inside and vaulted up onto the side of the overturned bus instead, prying open the doors and falling back onto his ass when a gush of black smoke rose up to hit him in the face. He held his breath until the frigid wind carried the worst of the cloud away, and Cas and Anna both had clambered up after him.

Cas crouched down at his side, frantically examining him for any sign of injury while Dean coughed and gasped for fresh air. Anna pulled a flashlight from her coat pocket, held her breath, and slowly lowered herself down through the open door. Cas looked torn between ensuring Dean’s well being and going after Anna, and Dean finally waved him off.

“It’s fine, Cas,” he said, coughing once more and shuffling around to his knees before trying to stand. “I’m a little dizzy but I’ll be fine. Help Anna. And don’t breathe any of that shit in.” Dean pointed to where thick smoke continued to seep out around the edges of the doorway like serpents slithering out of a hole in the ground, only to be blown apart and swept away by the next gust of wind.

Cas stared at him critically for a moment, using his old x-ray powers like some sort of lie detector to confirm the truth of Dean’s self-assessment. Satisfied, he nodded and leaned in for a quick kiss before pulling out his own flashlight and following after Anna.

Dean waited at the doorway, impatiently trying to see what was going on down inside the bus without getting too close to the toxic fumes. Through the lingering remnants of the smoke he could see the moving beams of Cas and Anna’s lights. A minute later, the screeching engine noise cut out and the bus went quiet. He could still hear shuffling and banging from inside, and he figured that was a good sign that Cas and Anna were both okay for now.

He took a few more deep breaths to clear his head. Whatever was in that smoke wasn’t the same thing he’d been hit with back in the trailer at the studio. That had insidiously induced a barely noticeable but potentially fatal sleepiness; but this gas, whatever it was, burned going down. His lungs ached and he felt clammy and sick to his stomach. His throat felt raw from coughing, and he’d only breathed in a tiny bit of it.

He was just contemplating jumping down to help with the rescue mission when Anna popped her head out through the doorway and sucked in a huge lungful of fresh air, furiously blinking her clearly irritated and watering eyes. She didn’t waste an ounce of breath as Dean saw Cas move past the doorway below dragging the unconscious driver toward the back of the bus. To Dean’s relief, he popped up a second later for a quick breath while Anna talked.

“There’s an emergency door at the back of the bus. Meet us there, and bring blankets and all the water you can find.”

Dean nodded in understanding, exchanging a grim but encouraging glance with Cas before they were all on the move again. Dean stood up, barking out Anna’s orders to the assembled crowd of crew members who’d come running at the sounds of the crash. As soon as they sprang into action, Dean ran along the length of the bus and dropped down to the ground just as the emergency door popped open. Due to the angle at which the bus hand landed, the door actually opened _up_ , and Dean held it open while Cas and Anna carried the driver out and laid him on the ground a safe distance away from the destroyed vehicle. Dean also noticed that Anna was dragging along what looked like the charred remnants of a gift basket filled with several shattered bottles of liquor and other assorted gourmet treats. It seemed like a strange thing to bother with at a time like this, with a man fighting for his life at their feet.

“Nobody touch that,” she said, pointing at the basket as soon as she’d caught her breath.

Cas was on his knees at the driver’s side, loosening the man’s tie and checking for a pulse. Lisa ran up and handed Cas a bottle of water. Cas cracked it open and splashed a handful on his own face before pouring a bit over the driver’s reddened face. When that didn’t help revive him, Cas started CPR, but within seconds it was clear that it was no use. The man was dead.

Dean crouched down behind Cas, and even over the noxious fumes still wafting out of the nearby wreckage, he could smell the whiskey soaking the driver’s uniform. He gently pulled Cas’s hands away from the man, muttering consoling words into Cas’s ear.

“It’s okay, babe. You did everything you could. You’re gonna be fine. I got you. C’mon sweetheart, let’s get a look at you.”

Cas didn’t say anything at first, just gestured with one hand at the basket Anna was guarding a short distance away while she made a series of urgent phone calls to the local police and her supervisor at Seraphim. Cas coughed once, and then took a long gulp of water from the bottle before letting Dean help him to his feet. When Cas finally spoke his voice sounded rougher than usual.

“The gift basket was addressed to me,” he said, the haunted look in his eyes hardening into determination. “Three bottles of Johnnie Walker Blue and an assortment of chocolates, and it appears that the driver was instructed to deliver it to me.”

Cas paused to exchange a glance with Anna, who nodded, obviously listening to their conversation while relating a similar account of events to their supervisor. Dean watched their exchange, putting a few of the details together for himself. The broken bottles, the damaged basket, the driver reeking of whiskey. It painted a disturbing picture.

“Wait, the basket was booby trapped?”

Cas nodded. “We think the driver was running late due to his indecision over whether or not he could get away with pilfering any of the whiskey. When he stopped out on the road, we believe it was in order to liberate one of the bottles for himself.”

Dean groaned. “So the whiskey he’s soaked in is a two hundred dollar of Blue? That’s fucking depressing.”

Cas led him over to examine the basket more closely, confirming the theory he and Anna had hashed out via hand gestures and significant looks. It had been a calculated risk to move the basket-- the evidence-- from where it rested inside the bus, but preserving it intact was a higher priority than leaving it in place in case the bus became unstable and caught fire. It had seemed like a distinct possibility at the time.

“Removing the bottle seems to have triggered the release of the gas.” Cas pointed at a loose wire nestled in the crinkly decorative packing material surrounding what was left of the other two bottles. “We probably owe this man our lives, Dean.”

Dean shook his head. “You tellin’ me you wouldn’t have been suspicious of a gift like that? That you’d’ve just yanked a bottle out without making sure it was safe first?”

Cas shrugged. “Probably not.”

Anna, still on the phone, crouched down to get a closer look at the note taped to the basket, and Cas and Dean both listened to her read it out for her boss.

“The front of the note reads, ‘Hand deliver to Cas Novak.’” She poked at it with the tip of her flashlight, flipping the card over to read the words neatly printed on the other side. “The back says, ‘Dean, I hope you appreciate my gift. I look forward to seeing you very soon.’”

“Fuck no, I don’t appreciate that gift,” Dean said, pulling Cas protectively to his side as if Dean was the bodyguard and Cas his charge.

Under the circumstances, Dean didn’t even lament the fact that three perfect bottles of whiskey had gone to waste, the remains of which would go to their final resting place in an evidence lab somewhere. He was disgusted and outraged that anyone could have such casual disregard for human life. Even worse, they were committing these horrendous acts in his name. Even worse than that, _Cas_ had been their intended target. How fucked in the head did they have to be to think Dean would appreciate _that_?

Several hours later craft services had finally exhausted their on-hand supply of coffee and hot chocolate. Between the police and accident investigation team and the rest of the film crew trying to keep warm through the frigid night, they were finally allowed to finish packing up their gear around three am, even though the police would likely be there for several hours more. All the witnesses had given their accounts of events, and they were finally allowed to leave the scene.

The crew and equipment trucks were eventually released to head toward their next location, but the director had thankfully called for a temporary shutdown of the production. It might throw off their schedule by a day or two, but after discussing it with Dean, Lisa, Cas, and Anna, he told them that their safety and comfort came first and agreed they all needed a day or two to recover from this shock. With that he’d handed Cas the keys to his personal car and told him to take Dean somewhere quiet for a couple of days, and that he’d call them tomorrow with the revised shooting schedule.

“We’ll make do without Dean for a while,” he’d said, patting Dean on the shoulder. “Call me if you need anything else.”

With his business concluded, the director walked over to the new bus sent out to replace the original, and climbed aboard with his assistant.

Lisa stepped up to Dean and gave him a hug. “Be careful out there,” she said, releasing Dean to pull Cas into a hug, as well. “Text me when you get wherever it is you’re going, and let me know you’re okay.”

“Will do, Lis. You don’t wanna tag along?”

She smiled and shook her head. “No, I think I’m safer keeping my distance from you right now.” She turned to Cas and solemnly said, “I’m actually sorry your plan to distract your stalker from targeting me worked so well. You guys don’t deserve this.”

“We’ll be fine, Lisa,” Cas assured her.

Anna led her to the bus and it pulled out of the lot a moment later. Dean and Cas found themselves alone save for the police still swarming the accident site. They walked toward the director’s shiny black Suburban, Cas handing the keys over to Dean as they crossed the otherwise empty lot.

“So, where to?” Dean asked, clicking the button to unlock the doors.

He noticed a box labeled “Wardrobe” on the back seat when he got in the SUV, and halfway hoped it was filled with his costumes and not Lisa’s. If they were taking off for a few days, it would be nice to have a change of clothes or two on hand so they wouldn’t have to drive back to their current motel to grab their luggage first. He reached back to lift the lid of the box and let out a sigh of relief. It contained several identical copies of the outfit he was currently wearing. Not a lot of variety, and he and Cas would look like one of those creepy couples who dress alike, but at least they’d have something clean to change into. Cas shot him a dubious look and Dean shrugged.

“I don’t think it matters much where we go at this point,” Cas finally answered. “As long as the assailant believes we’re still with the rest of the crew, they could still be in danger. It might be safest for us to stay nearby.”

Dean nodded thoughtfully, starting up the truck to get the heater going. “Unless we make a public announcement that we’re taking off for a few days.” He pulled out his phone and opened up Twitter before handing it over to Cas.

“You want me to compose a message?”

Dean shrugged. “If you think it’s a good idea. Tell them what happened, as much as we’re allowed to. Tell them you and I are  taking off to Vegas for a couple of days. I don’t think it really matters where we tell them we’re going, so long as they don’t send another present to anyone while we’re gone.”

“I wonder what Bela would think of you taking these sorts of liberties with your own safety?” Cas wondered idly.

Dean shrugged. “I talked to Frank about an hour ago, and the paranoid bastard actually suggested laying down a false trail. Worse comes to worst, Bela can throw a tantrum at him.”

Cas stared at the screen thoughtfully before beginning to type. “You know, the officer I spoke with told me that the driver had been instructed by the front desk clerk at the hotel to deliver that basket to my room, but since my name wasn’t on the register and he apparently didn’t know that I was sharing your room, he thought it would be easier to simply deliver it in person. That’s the only reason the basket was on the bus at all, instead of waiting for us back at the hotel.”

Dean blinked at that. “For someone who keeps leaving notes to me like _I’ll see you soon_ , they seem to be trying pretty hard to kill me before they get the chance to.”

“I don’t believe they’re operating from a rational perspective, Dean.”

“Did the motel clerk get a look at the person who dropped the basket off?”

“He described someone who vaguely fits the description of the woman we encountered in San Francisco, but he couldn’t provide us with any further details, not even a description of her vehicle.”

Cas finished typing and handed the phone back to Dean, who read Cas’s message and pressed send.

_Cas and I got an unscheduled three day vacation. Sad news from set, but we'll fill you in tomorrow. Right now, we need some R &R. _

He typed up his own addendum and handed it back to Cas for his approval.

_We’re both okay, but we need to get away for a while. Anyone got any good suggestions where we should go?_

Cas glanced up at Dean, confused, and Dean explained.

“It’ll get people talking to us, first of all. Give your people some data to comb through, or whatever. And it’s clear we’re going off together; that we’re not on set or with the rest of the crew. We don’t have a plan, we’re just hitting the road. Alone.”

Cas nodded, understanding. “You’re attempting to _draw the heat_ off our friends. I see.”

Dean grinned at him. “I think you’ve been watching too many movies, Cas. But yeah.”

“Whose fault is that?” he asked, but Cas was grinning now too, and he sent the message.

Dean headed out toward the nearest highway and randomly decided to head east while Cas watched the replies roll in. Many of the responses were along the lines of, “You guys are welcome to my guest room any time,” but many others were random shoutouts from cities around the world.

“I don’t think we’ll have time to fly to Italy during our break, but that does look lovely,” Cas said at one point, enlarging a picture of the Tuscan countryside at sunrise that someone had sent to entice them to her neck of the woods.

“Maybe next month when we’re not on a schedule anymore,” Dean replied absently, beginning to look for a place for them to stop for what was left of the night. The caffeine and adrenaline were finally wearing off and he was fighting back a yawn.

Cas blinked, looking up from the phone screen to stare at Dean. “You really mean that?”

“Why not?” Dean said, “If you wanna go, we’ll go.”

Cas opened and closed his mouth several times, feeling the unspoken meaning behind Dean’s offer. “You’d willingly board and airplane? Just because I thought it seemed like a nice idea?”

Dean squirmed in his seat and then took a deep breath and straightened up. He held his right hand out toward Cas, and Cas took the invitation and gripped his hand tight.

“Yeah, Cas, I would.”

“And you still intend to keep me around, even a month from now?”

“I’m holding your hand, Cas. I thought that was pretty obvious by now.”

Cas snorted out a laugh, running his thumb along Dean’s. “It never hurts to check.”

“You can check all you want, but that’s not gonna change, okay?”

Cas nodded, and Dean pulled off the highway at the next exit. It was well past four in the morning and they could decide what to do next after a few hours of sleep. For right now they were safe and together. Everything else would just have to wait until sunrise.


	14. Chapter 14

Dean bypassed two brightly lit chain hotels in favor of a slightly run-down mom and pop motel a few miles out of the way from anything.

“We’re going for low-key here, Cas,” he’d replied when Cas had questioned his choice.

The sleepy desk attendant had perked up a little when they’d walked in, and then suffered a whiplash-inducing doubletake. The poor kid’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head, and he blurted out, “Oh my god, you’re Dean Winchester. And Cas.”

Dean sighed and exchanged a glance with Cas before resigning himself to a few more minutes in character.

“Yeah. We’ve just had a spectacularly difficult night and we need a room for a few hours. If you can make that happen without any fanfare, that would be awesome.”

The kid’s eyes widened alarmingly further and Cas was silently concerned that they were at risk of popping all the way out, but he nodded and finally got ahold of himself.

“Yes, sir. I mean, of course. I saw your tweets a while ago, but I can’t believe you actually showed up here. This is incredible. Nobody’s ever gonna believe this.”

“I’ll make sure they believe it,” Dean said. “If you can keep it quiet until tomorrow morning, I’ll give you all the proof you need.”

Dean promised to take the kid to breakfast after his shift and sign a few autographs in exchange for a twenty four hour ban of silence on the whole situation. The kid didn’t have to know that it was for his own safety as much as their convenience, and he was too excited about their deal to question it.

After a decent four hours of sleep and a half hour in the motel’s attached diner signing autographs and taking selfies, Dean and Cas headed back out on the road with no particular destination in mind, this time headed north into Nebraska.

“We should probably check in with… everyone,” Cas eventually said as lunchtime drew near and they’d begun searching for a place to stop and rest for a while.

“We’re actually not too far from a friend of mine’s hunting cabin,” Dean said after a few minutes. “I think I’ve just been headed that way on autopilot. It’s probably the safest place we could be right now. Middle of nowhere, nobody would expect us to be there.”

“Would your friend mind you dropping by unannounced?” Cas asked.

“Nah, I’ll just call her when we get there and tell her we’re holing up for a few days. She’ll get it. Plus, she’s the sheriff up in Sioux Falls.”

“How did you become friends with the sheriff of Sioux Falls?”

“Bobby, the guy who took us in after my dad disappeared. They go way back. It’ll be fine, Cas.”

Instead of stopping for lunch, they stopped at a grocery store and stocked up with enough food for a couple of days, in addition to replacing all the necessities they’d left behind. Toothbrushes, soap, shampoo, and all the little things they’d need.

Jody’s cabin proved to be the perfect hideout. It was as secluded and secure as Dean had described, and was also as comfortable and scenically lovely as they both could’ve hoped.

“We should come back here for a normal vacation when our lives aren’t being threatened so that we can properly appreciate the natural beauty,” Cas had joked while they’d unpacked everything in the kitchen and Dean had made them lunch.

“Hey, in some ways I can appreciate it even more when someone’s trying to kill us,” Dean replied.

Cas glared at him and shook his head. “I suppose it does add a certain immediacy to the experience, but I’d still prefer it if no one was intent on seeing us dead.”

Once they’d settled in, Dean’s first call was to Sam. He’d seen Dean’s tweets, but he’d also seen the inevitable news reports about the accident on set. Sam was unsurprisingly concerned, but relieved that Dean and Cas were both okay.

Sam’s next reaction was to begin brainstorming ideas for putting an end to this bullshit. Dean quickly discovered what Sam’s latest logic puzzle had been, and just like the arguments he’d presented to convince Dean to get back into acting, and eventually to move out to LA, Sam’s finely honed reasoning convinced Dean that they had a reasonable chance of success. With Cas included in the call on speakerphone and a copy of the rest of the month’s shooting schedule in hand, the three of them actually managed to work out a sensible plan of action.

Dean’s next call was to Bela. It was time for the inevitable truth to come out. Two people had already died, and too many other people that they cared about were in danger. They needed to put a stop to this. Dean and Cas were both sure that Bela was going to hate every bit of their plan, but hopefully they could end this bullshit once and for all.

“Dean, it’s so good to hear from you,” Bela said when she finally picked up the phone. “I was going to call sooner, but Frank assured me that you were safe and that you’d check in as soon as you were able to.”

“Yeah, we’re fine,” Dean said. “I’ve got Cas on the line with me, and there’s a few things you need to know.”

“I’m all ears, Dean.”

They spent a few minutes explaining the facts of their relationship, that it wasn’t simply a cover for the public. Bela had only been mildly surprised by that.

“So I guess Castiel ended up being a particularly good Christmas gift after all.”

Dean sputtered, but Cas pressed on, ignoring Bela’s delighted teasing in favor of explaining their plan.

“We know this person has a copy of the original shooting schedule, even if it is slightly outdated and inaccurate, and we thought we might be able to use that to our advantage.”

“I see,” Bela said. “What do you need from me?”

“Permission, mostly,” Dean replied. “And a little help coordinating everything with the director and the producers. If we’re gonna do this, we need to give them a heads up.”

“We’re going to contact Detective Ballard and inform her of our plans, but Dean also has a connection to local law enforcement who will be on standby,” Cas added.

They listened to Bela huff out a tired little laugh before she finally reluctantly agreed. “I suppose I’ve got quite a few calls to make myself, then. Give me an hour to arrange everything on this end before you go live. And let Becky know when you’re ready to start. And Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Good luck.”

Dean gulped and shared a worried look with Cas. “Thanks.”

It took a little more than an hour to get everything ready, with calls to Sheriff Jody Mills in Sioux Falls, a confirmation from the director that he was on board with their plan, and a final call to Sam to let him know his plan was a go. Cas also talked with his supervisor at Seraphim, as well as Anna, so that everyone involved would know exactly what to expect.

With a few minutes left to spare, they got everything set up on their end and Dean took a moment to prepare himself. Cas found him nervously pacing in the small kitchen, trying out various turns of phrase like he was rehearsing a scene in his trailer. He caught Dean’s attention and couldn’t help but smile when Dean relaxed and came up to him with his arms extended in a request for a hug. Cas practically leapt on him, holding him tight for a moment before letting him go. Dean didn’t let him get far.

“You ready for this?”

Dean’s tone was more serious now, and even though Cas had been involved in every step of the plan, he didn’t think that’s what Dean was referring to now.

“I’m ready. My supervisor advised against going forward, pointing out that I was already compromised and would never be able to work in the field again. She insinuated that I likely wouldn’t have a job at Seraphim at all if we went ahead with this, and I told her I understood the risk.”

“I’m sorry I cost you your wings, Cas.”

Cas shook his head and rested one hand on Dean’s cheek. “First of all, you didn’t. I chose to be here with you. I’d rather be here with you. I wouldn’t trade any of this for a job. You’re worth it, Dean.”

Dean studied him for a few seconds and then slowly nodded. “Just making sure you’re not having any last minute regrets.”

Cas leaned in and kissed him. “I could never regret anything I’ve done for you.”

“World’s greatest assistant,” Dean said, leaning in for one more kiss. “Okay, let’s do this.”

The two of them got comfortable on the old couch in the living room. Dean texted Becky that they were all set to go on their end, and she replied a few seconds later with a thumbs up emoji. Cas grabbed Dean’s hand, holding on with all he had as his entire life was about to change forever. Dean squeezed back, and then sent the tweet inviting fans to their facebook livestream.

“Okay, hey, I hope this is working,” Dean said, squinting into the phone’s camera and watching the number of viewers jump from the hundreds into the thousands, and beyond. “Hi everybody. I hope you’re all having a better day than we are. I guess word’s gotten out about the accident on set, and Cas and I would like to send our condolences to Mr. Groves’ family.”

They’d made sure to learn the bus driver’s name, and paused for a moment of silence. The viewer count just kept rising. Cas looked slightly alarmed, sitting beside Dean on the tiny screen in his hand, and Dean gave Cas’s hand another squeeze to ground him.

“We stopped production for a few days, so Cas and I took a little unscheduled vacation from set. The movie business doesn’t stop, even in the wake of a tragedy, and the show must go on. Funny thing is, one little glitch in the carefully planned schedule can throw everything to hell.”

“Especially if one of your shooting locations happens to be a hellgate,” Cas tossed in irreverently.

Dean side-eyed him hard and then burst out laughing. “In case you’re wondering why I keep him around,” he said to the camera.

Cas shrugged, suppressing a delighted little smirk.

“Anyway, when the production office called this morning to work out the revised schedule and asked where we’d run off to, they decided it was logistically easier to jump straight to the end of the old schedule and work our way backward instead of trying to push everything forward a few days. So to everyone worried that we weren’t gonna be able to finish making this movie, we’re still on track. We’re just taking things a little out of order. This is what Cas and I get for running off to South Dakota for a few days.”

Dean let go of Cas’s hand so he could scroll through the comments and questions coming in from fans, and hopefully answer a few. A lot of them were the usual barrage of _I love you_ and _can I get a shoutout_ and the like, mixed in with relieved statements that they were fine and the movie was still getting made. Cas started blurting out random answers to people who’d directly addressed him, saying hello and waving bemusedly into the camera at the unexpected attention. Dean eventually found some questions he could answer, though.

“Yeah, never fear, we’re all back to work tomorrow.”

He watched a few more questions roll by before answering another.

“Maddie, it’s not weird to switch around the filming order. Movies never get filmed in the right order anyway. We already shot the final scenes about three weeks ago.”

As soon as he’d finished answering, he found exactly the sort of question he’d been hoping for.

“Donna wants to know why we’re working our way backward through the location shoots now, and that’s actually probably our fault. See, we were told to take a couple days off, and Cas and I just picked a direction at random and drove, and turns out we ended up just a few miles away from the last location on the schedule. They’re sending out a small crew to film those scenes tomorrow since all those scenes just need me and the crew. I guess they figured it was easier logistically this way, and it gives them an extra day or two to iron out the rest of the schedule.”

Dean scrolled a little more and than smiled, reading out one last question. “Is Cas going with you?” He turned to Cas and grinned. “Well, are you coming with?”

Cas laughed. “That’s a silly question. Of course I am.”

A new influx of tiny facebook hearts floated across the screen and Dean put on a front of patently transparent grumpiness to disguise the unadulterated delight he felt at Cas’s confirmation. He cleared his throat and wrapped up their livestream.

“Well, since our vacation got cut short by the new schedule, we just wanted to say thanks for your support, and let you know that even in tragedy our little family is sticking together. Stephen Groves was one of our own, and we’ll all be thinking of him and his family this week. It reminds us all of what’s really important, so Cas and I are gonna enjoy a little quality time while we can. We’ll talk to you soon.”

He fumbled with the buttons, trying to figure out how to stop the recording, and eventually Cas had to reach across and push stop for him. The last frame of the recording was a goofy image of Cas trying to keep from laughing while Dean smiled bemusedly at him. When Dean noticed, he couldn’t help but make the same face again.

“So now we wait,” Cas said, setting Dean’s phone down on the coffee table and leaning back against him on the couch.

“Yep,” Dean replied, bumping his forehead against the top of Cas’s head where it rested against his shoulder. “And we still have the whole rest of the day to ourselves. Any suggestions?”

Cas hummed thoughtfully. “I’d like to go for a walk.”

“I don’t know if you recall from the last three weeks of outdoor location shoots, but it’s fucking freezing out there.”

“I remember.”

“And that wasn’t enough standing around in the cold for one lifetime?”

“I don’t want to stand around,” Cas argued. “I want to walk. Leisurely. Through the quiet woods, without crowds of people bustling around. No schedule, no cameras, no one telling you where to stand and when to speak while I sit off to the side waiting for you to get a break. It sounds pleasant.”

“Huh, when you put it that way.” Dean stood up and pulled Cas to his feet. “Let’s get bundled up.”

Dean left his phone in the cabin and they spent a lovely afternoon walking through the woods. They came back to make dinner and relax in front of the fire for a few hours before turning in early. If everything went according to plan and they’d piqued the interest of Dean’s stalker, they’d be in for a very stressful couple of days.

As promised, two production trucks and a fraction of the usual crew were waiting for them when they arrived at the newly rescheduled shooting location the next afternoon. Dean’s character would be filmed driving along several deserted highways, and then hunting for a monster in the woods. Back on set in LA, they’d already filmed the scenes where he cornered the creature in a cave and had to fight for his life to escape, before an angel had found him and come to his rescue. Dean couldn’t help but admire the irony, with his own personal angel by his side heading into an all too real danger against a real-life monster.

Sheriff Jody Mills had met up with them for lunch a few miles shy of the wilderness area where they’d be filming. She brought half a dozen of her best deputies to pose as part of the production team while keeping a wary eye out for any potential danger. Dean was happy to introduce her to Cas, even under the circumstances. He ended up sitting back and admiring Cas doing what he was trained to do; uniting a group of soldiers for a covert mission. When they left the diner and headed out to meet up with the rest of the crew, Dean couldn’t help but feel a little sad.

“You’re gonna miss that, aren’t you?”

“Hmm?” Cas had been staring out the window at the winter-drab woods. “Miss what?”

“You know,” Dean said, waving one hand around absently, grateful he had an excuse not to look at Cas right then. “Leading a team, running security, all that James Bond shit.”

Dean saw him shrug out the corner of his eye.

“Perhaps, but it’s not that different from the security work I did on set. The chief officer at the studio expressed in interest in hiring me as a consultant from time to time, so it’s not like I’ve burned all my bridges to that sort of work.”

“Huh.” Dean thought about that for a minute. “So you gonna take him up on that?”

Cas squirmed a little bit, glancing nervously at Dean, before answering. “I may have explained that I work for you, but that he was free to contact me if he thought I could be of assistance. I couldn’t guarantee anything, but I would consider it on a case by case basis.”

Dean took a relieved breath and nodded, tearing his eyes away from the road long enough to smile over at Cas. Refocused on the highway, he reached out and laid his hand on Cas’s thigh. “That’s good. Keep a hand in if you want, but maybe not on the front lines anymore. Best of both worlds, right?”

“This is only my first case on the _front lines_ , as you say, and already I’m looking forward to a quiet retirement as a personal assistant.”

Dean laughed uneasily, reminded of the situation they were walking into. “I hear you. Let’s just hope this works and we can finally catch the freak who wants us dead.”


	15. Chapter 15

Dean spent the rest of the afternoon racing a souped up ‘67 Mustang through the wilds of South Dakota while being filmed from every possible angle. As sunset drew near, they moved to a wooded area where he’d be stalking a monster who’d be digitally added to the scene in post-production. As it stood, he had to spend the evening running around the woods, surrounded by two dozen camouflaged crew members, while pretending to be terrified of a tennis ball on a stick. Acting.

Jody’s retainer of undercover sheriff’s deputies had initially been excited about the prospect of seeing a real Hollywood movie set in action, but they quickly grew bored with the tedious nature of production and had no trouble staying focused on their actual job. Turns out that staring off into the woods was far more interesting. Cas was quietly amused by their disappointment, but he also remained carefully focused on his own job.

The remote filming location didn’t seem a likely target for their stalker to strike, but after the bus incident he was on his guard for anything out of the ordinary. His primary concern now that it had grown dark and the director was about ready to call cut for the final time and strike the set was the safety of the campground resort that the entire crew was bound for next.

Cas hadn’t had a chance to inspect their lodgings for himself, so he was relying on Anna to scope it out for him. She’d swung by set during their dinner break and collected Jody and two of her deputies to ride ahead to the resort. She’d called an hour later to report the entire complex was secure, each of the two dozen or so cabins had been searched and cleared, and the four of them had found strategic locations from which to keep watch. They’d trade off with Jody’s remaining four deputies when they arrived in a few hours, and report any suspicious activity in the meantime.

It was nearing two in the morning by the time the exhausted crew arrived at the Twin Pines Resort Campground. While most of the men and women claimed their room keys and trudged off directly to their cabins to sleep, Jody’s four deputies that had remained with the crew through the rest of the day silently melted out of the crowd and disappeared into the surrounding woods. A few moments later the other two deputies, Anna, and Jody joined Dean and Cas on the sidewalk in between the last two cabins at the edge of the campground.

“Nothing interesting to report yet,” Anna said.

“All quiet on every front,” Jody confirmed.

Cas nodded, taking a moment to glance around and familiarize himself with the landscape. The area immediately surrounding the cluster of cabins was well lit, but wander ten feet out in any direction and the world dissolved away into an endless black nothingness. There wasn’t even any real moonlight to speak of, and aside from the stars there wasn’t much to see. The hissing of the wind through tree branches was the only evidence that the forest was still out there beyond their limited bubble of light. The strange artificial sense of isolation, pressed in from all sides by the threatening night, gave them a creeping sense that something was surely out there in the darkness watching them.

When Dean replied, it was nearly in a whisper, possibly out of respect for the tired crew sleeping nearby, but more probably because of the inexplicable primordial instinct to remain hidden and unnoticed from the darkness itself.

“So what’s the plan? Are we just supposed to pretend everything’s normal and try to sleep?”

“You do need your rest, Dean,” Cas replied, just as quietly.

“Yeah, like that’s gonna happen any time soon.”

“Cas is right,” Jody scolded him. “The two of you need to stick to the schedule. We’re all gonna be out here keeping an eye on things, and we’ll be ready if anything happens during the night.”

“I really wanna be reassured by that, but…” Dean started, and then Jody cut him off.

“Then just think of it like any other job, Dean. Take your places and act out the scene just like you wrote it, okay? We’re all gonna do the same.  It’s a good script. Let’s just hope the audience appreciates it.”

Dean nodded, and Cas stepped closer to wrap an arm around his shoulders.

“I’ll take it from here,” Cas said, leading Dean off toward their cabin. “Thank you all again.”

“Sweet dreams, we’ll see you in the morning,” Anna replied.

Two minutes later the sidewalk was clear and the stage was set.

Jody and Anna were only a few feet away in the cabin next door while Dean and Cas settled into that last cabin by the treeline. They’d wanted to both make themselves as easy a target as possible, setting themselves up as bait for their stalker, but also to hopefully prevent any of their friends from becoming entangled in whatever strange drama might unfold during the night. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but it was the best they had.

“So we’re really gonna let some freak walk right up to the cabin?” Dean asked again a half an hour later as he and Cas were getting dried off after their shower.

Cas hung up the towel he’d been using to dry his hair and reached for the one hanging limply in Dean’s hand. “We don’t really have another choice, Dean. If we did, believe me I would have suggested it.”

“You do make good suggestions,” Dean replied, pulling Cas in close to press their shower-warm skin together.

Cas snorted and halfheartedly pushed Dean away. “I thought a hot shower might help you relax so you’d be able to rest.”

Dean pulled him back in for a kiss. “That was a very hot shower.”

“And yet you’re still not sleepy. It was obviously not a very good suggestion.”

“No, no. It was. I’m definitely more relaxed,” Dean admitted, grinning against Castiel’s neck and slowly walking him backward out of the bathroom. “Just worried if we get into bed right now we’ll both fall asleep.”

As they passed by the dresser where their suitcases sat open, Cas reached into Dean’s bag and grabbed the first thing he laid his hand on. It happened to be a blue t-shirt, which he draped over Dean’s head.

“Hey!” Dean pulled the shirt off his head and finally stopped walking toward the bed. “What was that for?”

Cas stared at him for a moment, waiting for Dean to get it. Dean just stood there, naked, holding the shirt in his hand. Cas rolled his eyes and turned to pick out his own clothes. “We have no way to predict what may happen during the night. It’s not like we have the luxury of sleeping naked.”

“Aw, Cas. Come on,” Dean said, stepping up behind him and pressing himself against Cas, slipping his arms around his waist. “We got half a dozen people out there watching out for us.”

“Yes,” Cas replied, turning to face Dean with his chosen clothing in hand. “Half a dozen people who may have reason to come storming in here at any moment. Not to mention the consequences if we should need to rush outside for any reason. It’s _freezing_ out there.”

“I could grab a blanket?” Dean suggested as a last-ditch attempt to keep the conversation going. As soon as he conceded the argument, he’d have to let go and let Cas get dressed. If he wasn’t going to get to spent the night curled around naked Cas in the manner he’d grown accustomed to, he was determined to hold on to naked Cas for as long as possible.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Dean.” Cas smiled softly and pressed his lips to Dean’s. “We have the rest of our lives to sleep naked. We just have to survive tonight.”

Dean felt his heart leap at Cas’s first statement. The rest of their lives sounded just about long enough for Dean. The second part, though; that hit him about the same way that running naked out into the freezing South Dakota night would.

“Yeah, yeah, okay. You made your point. I’ll get dressed.”

He stole one last kiss and dropped his hand to grab Cas’s ass before finally stepping back to put on his shirt. Ten minutes later they were both fully dressed, right down to their boots. Dean dropped their repacked suitcases by the front door so they’d be ready to leave quickly if they needed to, and draped his coat over the chair closest to the door. He turned around to see Cas pulling on his leather jacket and decided he needed to draw the line somewhere.

“Okay, Cas. I agreed to sleep in clothes, and I even put on my boots, but we are not sleeping in winter coats.”

Cas glanced down at himself and then looked back at Dean. “First of all, I like this jacket. Second, I won’t be sleeping. At least not right away.”

“Oh, babe, no. You gotta sleep too.” Dean walked to Cas’s side and managed to lure him over to the side of the bed. “I’m not sure I could even sleep without you anymore.”

Cas smiled down at Dean as he lay back on the bed and tried to coax him down too. “I need to watch over you, Dean. At least one of us needs to remain alert in case something happens. You need your rest more than I do.”

“Well, at the very least you could sit down, y’know. Don’t have to stand up all night like some sort of creepy statue.”

“I didn’t intend to, Dean,” he replied, sitting at the head of the bed and propping himself up against the pillows.

Dean spent a few long seconds despairing over this unsatisfactory situation before sighing and rolling over on his side so he could nuzzle down against Cas’s hip. With one arm stretched over Cas’s lap, he tried to relax enough to doze off, but now that he was out of arguments it was still difficult to stop his mind from running through the ghastly cavalcade of things that could go bump in the night. Cas reached down and pulled the blanket over both of them, then switched off the light and gently ran his fingers through Dean’s hair.

“Everything will be fine, Dean. I’m right here. You can sleep now.”

Dean let out a dissatisfied little hum and did his best to comply.

Twenty minutes later Dean was just beginning to doze off when Cas’s phone buzzed in his lap, right beside Dean’s face. He groggily sat up and rubbed his eyes while Cas read the message. Cas was instantly on his feet, and that brought Dean to attention.

“Someone just emerged from the woods and is moving toward the cabin,” Cas informed him.

Their eyes had grown accustomed to the dark, the room lit only by the cracks of light seeping in around the curtains, but they strained to hear any sort of movement outside. Cas’s phone buzzed again, and he pointed to the front door. Whoever was coming for them was right outside now. Dean was torn between wanting to throw open the door and just pummel whoever was on the other side of it for putting them through this, and bolting for freedom out the back window of the cabin. Cas grabbed Dean’s coat and tossed it to him. It was ridiculous, as if the coat could somehow provide him any additional protection from whatever was about to happen, but putting it on gave Dean something to do for a precious few seconds-- long enough to prevent him from putting one of his other dubious plans into action.

The raspy slide of a key into the lock had them both bracing for action. Dean had one last minute impulse to put himself between Cas and the door, since Cas had been the target of the last attack. He stood firmly beside Cas, though, knowing Cas was probably fighting down the same impulse to jump in front of him.

“Hello?” a soft female voice called out as the door slid open a crack. “Are you here, Dean? I’ve been waiting for you for so long.”

The glare of the parking lot’s sodium lights and a frigid breeze spilled into the cabin behind a figure cloaked entirely in black. She must’ve been all but invisible out in the woods draped head to toe in that getup. Backlit in the harsh orangey glow and with the icy wind rustling her hooded cloak, she reminded Dean of a Ringwraith. It was impossible to see her face in the shadow of her hood, but they both already knew exactly what she looked like. The voice was unmistakable.

“You lied to me, Dean. He’s not your assistant. You betrayed me. How could you?”

“Lady, I don’t even know you,” Dean replied.

“Of course you do, Dean,” she replied, finally lowering her hood. “It’s me. I know you got my letters.”

Dean glanced at Cas and then forged ahead. They’d already agreed it was best to start out with the stark, honest truth and then go from there.

“My agent got all your letters. I never even see most of ‘em.”

“But you sent a reply, and a photo signed _with love_.”

Dean shook his head, feeling a little more confident now. “My agent’s got a stack of those at her office, and an intern whose job it is to reply to fans.”

The woman stood there staring at Dean, and then finally stepped into the room, raising one hand toward him. “You tricked me. Why would you trick me like that?”

“Lady, that’s Hollywood.”

“My name is Amara, not Lady. You should at least know that much.”

Dean and Cas both took an instinctive step back from her, but she continued advancing on them, all but ignoring Cas in favor of pursuing Dean.

“Names are important, Dean,” Amara said, unfastening the catch holding her cloak together at her neck.

Releasing the mechanism triggered a canister hidden beneath the folds of fabric, and the room instantly began filling with thick black smoke, this time tinged with an eerie blue light as if something in one of the canisters had sparked an electrical fire inside her robes.

“Dean, the door,” Cas called out to him, grabbing Dean’s hand. They tried to make a run for it.

Amara caught Dean’s wrist as he dodged around her, and he dragged her halfway across the room before she finally let him go. She fell to the floor, gasping through the miasma of her own making. When he reached the door with Cas, Dean turned around to see her crumpling over amid the toxic cloud.

“You’re right. Names are important. His name is Castiel.” And then they fled into the welcoming night.


	16. Chapter 16

Jody and Anna were waiting for them in the parking lot, guns drawn and ready to storm their cabin when Dean and Cas came bursting through the door, wisps of acrid smoke curling off in their wake. The two women had overheard the entire conversation with Amara, since Cas had called Jody and left the line open just before Amara had come through the door. They’d been waiting for her to incriminate herself not only for stalking, but also for the two murders she committed and the attempted murders of Lisa, Cas, and Dean. In the end they hadn’t even gotten her full name before she expired, suffocating on the cloud of poisonous smoke she’d intended to be the death of all three of them.

As soon as he and Cas had taken five minutes to assure each other that they were both fine, Dean called Sam. It was late, but Sam was still awake, unable to sleep until Dean told him it was all over.

His next call was to Bela’s office where Frank was manning the overnight shift again. Unlike Bela, who’d tried to shield Dean from the contents of Amara’s letters, Frank was more than happy to quote a few choice lines.

“Your favorite fan was a grade A naughty little girl, cupcake. She went on and on about how the two of you were _bonded_. Wacko stuff, like how you set her free, and she wanted to do the same for you. She wanted to take away your pain, so you could live forever with her in bliss. The bat actually thought you were sending her subliminal messages through clouds and water fountains. It gets more pornographic, and weirder, but I figure you still might wanna sleep tonight, so I’ll leave it there for now.”

“Thank you, Frank. It’s been enlightening, as always.”

“Chin up, sweetie pop. You’re not dead yet.”

With that cheerful reminder, Frank hung up leaving Dean to stare at his phone in bemusement. Cas was still on the phone, pacing the parking lot a few yards away, just this side of the fleet of cop cars, an ambulance, and a HAZMAT emergency truck that had taken over the campground. Dean let him have his space, knowing that it could very well be Cas’s final report to his old boss. He hung up a few moments later. When Dean saw his shoulders slump he rushed to Cas’s side and wrapped him in a hug.

“You doin’ okay, sunshine?”

Cas took a deep breath and smiled up at Dean. “Yes, I believe I am.”

“We’re both alive,” Dean said, listing off the reasons they had to be thankful. “And Jody gave me the key to her cabin if we want to try and get some shuteye.”

Cas glanced around at the noise and commotion filling the entire campground. In addition to the swarm of police and fire crews, most of the film crew had also wandered outside to witness the aftermath of their near death experience.

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

Dean shrugged. “It was worth a shot.”

Anna came over to let them know that they’d officially been given the day off. Dean glanced around at the crowd and spotted the director standing by his Suburban, shaking his head wearily and nursing a cup of coffee.

“Don’t mind him,” Anna said, rolling her eyes. “He said he was grateful for the experience, watching this disaster unfold. Said it would help him add the right touch of gritty realism to his films.”

Dean thought about that for a second, going through the list of scenes they still had to shoot, and then grudgingly admitted that the guy was probably right.

“We’ve got a couple big disasters left on the schedule involving cops and shit.”

“I’ll take fake disasters over real disasters any day,” Cas replied.

“Same here,” Dean agreed, draping one arm over Cas’s shoulders and noticing that Anna was also warming her hands with a cup of coffee. “So if we’re not gonna be sleeping anytime soon, where can we get some coffee?”

 

Production got back on schedule a day after the disaster at the Twin Pines, and finally wrapped three and a half weeks later. The newly revised shooting schedule had them finishing up their last days just outside Dean’s hometown. Rather than fly home from Kansas with the rest of the crew, Dean and Cas decided to stick around for a few days. Dean wanted to show Cas around his old stomping grounds in Lawrence and introduce him to some of his friends and family. When it was finally time to head back to LA, Dean did the sensible thing and rented a car. With Dean’s next film not scheduled to begin shooting until October, they had plenty of time for a leisurely road trip.

It took another week and a half for them to finally arrive home. Dean had promised to schedule a meeting with Bela to review the contract extension for his next film, but there was still nothing truly pressing on their agenda.

Cas had received his formal dismissal from Seraphim, but he’d been pleasantly surprised with the glowing recommendation letter his boss had written for him. She’d been sorry that his exposure had made his continued employment with them impossible, especially since it had all be done in the name of protecting his client. She seemed more concerned that Cas would be angry with her decision to let him go, but Dean knew the truth. He’d never seen Cas happier. Unemployment suited him.

Well, not unemployment, really. Cas was still Dean’s assistant. The job came with a lot fewer headaches and a lot more naked cuddling. They were both satisfied with the arrangement.

After Sam and Jess were through with their finals in early May, Dean and Cas drove back to Stanford to spend a little time with them. They revisited all the places they’d been to before Christmas, but they were both finally able to really enjoy themselves without constantly feeling the need to look over their shoulders.

In the early part of June leading up to Dean’s first major movie premiere, they finally had to board another plane. Dean and Lisa were both making appearances on all the major talk shows to promote the film, and that meant flying out to New York for a few days before zipping right back to LA. Dean didn’t even need to put up a fuss to ensure Cas was on the flight with him. It was as easy as saying he needed to book an extra ticket for his assistant, and the studio included Cas on Dean’s official itinerary, no questions asked.

Sam and Jess even drove down for the big premiere, and Dean enjoyed taking them and Cas shopping to get them all outfitted for the red carpet. Jess had left the three of them to get fitted for tuxes while she went off to find herself a gown. Dean decided that there was nothing funnier than watching the tailor frantically try to fit a giant like Sam into a tux. He’d had far less trouble finding a suit that looked fantastic on Cas.

“Wow,” Dean said when Cas wandered out of the dressing room still fidgeting with his cuffs.

“You’ve seen me in a suit before, Dean. In fact, it was about the only clothing I owned when we first met.”

“Yeah, but your old suits looked nothin’ like this,” Dean replied, stepping in closer than necessary to help Cas with his black silk tie.

When he was done, he stepped back to appreciate the complete look.

“Cas, you look smokin hot.”

Sam snorted from inside the dressing room. “Don’t make me come out there to throw a bucket of water on you guys. This is a public venue.”

“We can take this somewhere private,” Dean said, gently nudging Cas back toward the changing room.

“We are doing nothing of the sort,” Cas replied, smirking at Dean while pushing him back out into the shop and shutting the changing room door in his face. “You can ruin this suit after we get home tomorrow night. Until then, hands off the merchandise.”

“That’s not fair,” Dean pouted, but he was already making plans for exactly how he intended to ruin their suits.

 

It shouldn’t have been a surprise to any of the Hollywood reporters lining the red carpet the next night when Dean stepped out of a limo with Cas on his arm. Dean had continued tweeting intermittently from set after the incident, and a good number of those tweets included either a mention of Cas or a picture of him. In the nearly two months since filming wrapped, he hadn’t been tweeting nearly as often, though. He’d answered a few questions about the _unfortunate incidents_ that occurred during filming on his press tour over the previous week, and mentioned every time that he was grateful to Cas for being there throughout that difficult time, but oddly enough not one reporter or talk show host had pursued that line of questioning further. Their loss, Dean thought as he and Cas faced down the flashing lights and shouted questions hand in hand.

“Dean, I see you brought your assistant, Castiel, tonight.”

“Yeah, he’s not exactly my assistant, you know,” Dean said, winking at Cas, who watched the exchange the same way he’d watched the previous four or five impromptu interviews Dean had given. “Well, he is, technically, I guess. But he’s also my date.”

“Castiel, is this your first time on a red carpet? What do you think of it?”

Cas looked to Dean for permission to speak freely, and Dean just grinned back and shrugged, squeezing his hand encouragingly.

“I think it’s ridiculous how many people have already asked Dean the same question. It’s been nearly three months since pictures of us were leaked to the press, and somehow no one seems to recall that we are together.”

The woman interviewing them blinked a few times, and then asked what may have been the most direct question of her entire reporting career.

“Wait, so those pictures _weren’t_ staged to lure out your stalker?”

Dean shrugged, and then dropped Cas’s hand so he could drape his arm over Cas’s shoulders. Cas laughed and then answered, wrapping his arm around Dean’s waist.

“It’s a long story, but the short answer is, no, they weren’t staged. We may have done what we could to make sure the stalker saw them, but the pictures themselves are authentic.”

“Well, we knew they were being taken,” Dean added for clarity’s sake.

Just then Lisa walked by to speak to another reporter standing near Dean, but Dean roped her into their interview.

“Here’s your mystery photographer,” Dean said, grinning between Lisa and the reporter.

Lisa looked confused for a minute and then rolled her eyes at Dean. “Are you talking about the makeout session behind the trailer pics again?”

“It was not a makeout session,” Dean argued.

“You guys stood there for like ten minutes in sub-zero weather just staring into each other’s eyes and giggling at each other’s jokes. It was a makeout session,” Lisa countered.

“There was kissing, as well,” Cas reminded him.

“Yeah, well, we had to do something to stay warm or else we woulda froze to death,” Dean said, trying his damndest not to laugh.

Throughout this entire exchange, the reporter, as well as several others standing nearby, just stood and stared.

“So yeah, I guess we have to make it official for everyone?” Dean asked, and then let Lisa go. “Excuse us, Lis. No offense.”

“None taken,” she replied, standing back to watch the show with everyone else.

Dean grinned at Cas and then planted a long, lingering kiss on him. They parted a minute later to whoops and cheers from the crowd while Lisa moved along to engage with the next reporter in line.

“Sorry folks, I can’t compete with true love’s kiss tonight,” she said.

“You promised you wouldn’t mess up my suit until we got home tonight, Dean,” Cas said, straightening out his coat. “But I guess I can make an exception this one time.”

“Aw, sunshine, you’ve been making exceptions for me since we met. Why stop now?”

“That is a fair point,” Cas conceded, and pulled Dean in for another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope y'all enjoyed it. Find me on the tumblies. I'm [mittensmorgul](mittensmorgul.tumblr.com)


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